


The Diary of a Broken Kid

by FreckledDragon



Series: Newtmas Prompts [2]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Complete, Diary, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Newmas - Freeform, Newt has a diary, Romance, Slow Build, Thomas finds it, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 68,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4333866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledDragon/pseuds/FreckledDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas finds a diary, intending to return it to the owner. However, there is no name to identify the owner, and as his curiosity takes the better of him, it gets harder to return it. The more he reads, the more he wants to meet the person the diary belongs to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!  
> Found a prompt on tumblr in the style of "You find my diary, and you fall in love with me without knowing who I am" and thought I just had to write a newtmas fic on this idea :-)  
> Not sure how frequent I'll post a new chapter, but I'll do my best!  
> I hope you like this idea, and please feel free to leave a comment! It always brightens my day c:  
> xoxo

It was a day like any other. Thomas excitedly chatted with his chemistry partner, scribbled thoughts across his paper in English, and was called by the teacher several times when he tried not to fall asleep in class. When the bell rang, signalling a half hour of freedom for lunch break, he met up with Teresa, heard her complaining about her ‘narrow-minded, half-brained idiot of a teacher’ who had apparently given her a lower grade for proposing another interpretation in her assignment than their personal opinion.

“I mean, we’re _supposed_ to create our own view of the story, but mister know-it-all is just too arrogant to realise that!” She made a disgusted huff and nearly threw her sandwich away, but then she decided against it, and took a large bite of it instead. Thomas simply nodded, too engrossed with his own food to comment on her rant. They sat in silence for a while, simply eating and enjoying each other’s presence in the otherwise stressful environment. They had been friends ever since they were kids. At first, they hadn’t liked each other, Thomas accusing her of being a simple-minded girl, Teresa too enraged to confront him. In the end, Thomas realised his accusation was wrongly founded and he apologized, where after their friendship quickly blossomed. Sure, they had their arguments, both being immensely stubborn, but usually they would reach a compromise or agree to disagree. No matter what, Teresa was his go-to person and he trusted her with his life, as she did him.

His train of thoughts were interrupted, when Teresa declared she’d better get ready for her next class. He realised break was nearly over, and waved at her as she went. Before going to class, he stopped by the boy’s room to put some water in his face. He had stayed up late to finish a postponed assignment and knew he would struggle to stay awake for his last classes today. Luckily, he didn’t have work or practise today, so he should be good to relax in his room before his mother returned from work. He looked at himself in the mirror, poking at the bags under his eyes, hoping they weren’t too obvious. His mother would fuss over him if he did, and the last thing he needed was for her to worry more than usual. Since his father’s death a year ago, she had struggled to pay the rent and take care of him. Thomas did the best he could, taking a part-time job, doing the dishes, cleaning the house, try to stay out of too much trouble to help her, but he knew, she pushed herself hard at work, and she always came home exhausted. There was a period, just after his father’s death, where she had been heavily malnourished, and developed a depression, and he never wished to see her so miserable ever again.

He sighed heavily, trying to shake the thoughts away. Just as he was about to turn away from the mirror, he spotted something on the ground between to stalls. Turning around, he realised it was a book. He frowned. Why would someone leave a book here? Did someone drop it? He went closer to inspect it. The cover was entirely black with no title or author name on it. Curious, he opened it. A swirly handwriting was scrawled on the pages, different dates adorning the upper left corner. On some pages, there were different sketches of landscapes, roads, mostly dark locations. _I should probably take it to the lost and found,_ he wondered. Before he had the opportunity to do so, the bell rang signalling the start of a new class.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, running out of the bathroom and towards his math class while simultaneously putting the handwritten book in his backpack. He was several minutes late, and mumbled his apology while ignoring the teacher’s disappointed lecture about wasting his time. He sat down quietly and did his best not to agitate the teacher further, completely forgetting about the abandoned book in his backpack.

A year ago, he would’ve given a snarky reply and casually sit down. He wouldn’t have cared about his attendance record, as he caught up pretty quickly. He was a smart kid, the teachers said, just too restless. He couldn’t sit still in class, always talked back to the teachers, and did strange assignments with little to no relation to the curriculum. He had been the quirky kid who for some reason scored great marks on tests. He had changed, though, when his mother started worrying about whether he would do well enough to get into a university. Then she would start worrying about paying for university, and she would get this devastated look that broke his heart. Eventually, he discovered, if the teachers stopped calling her about his behaviour, she wouldn’t bring it up, and she could walk about with one less worry.

The lesson was tedious, the teacher spending the time going through necessities for their next assignment. When it finally ended, Thomas met up with Teresa to their only shared class on that day. Luckily, they had to do a task in pair, so the lesson passed quickly with friendly banter, as they solved it quickly and used the rest of the time to chat. Teresa had one more class, so Thomas went home by himself, thoughts about what to make for dinner filling his head. He took a detour, walking through a forest. The scent of leaves welcomed him making his head lightheaded as he relieved himself of any worry. There weren’t any other than him in the forest, and the illusion of being completely alone comforted him. Here there weren’t anyone to take care of, anyone anxiously trying not to disappoint. It was incredibly relieving.

At some point though, he had to take a path that led away from the forest and towards his house. He walked towards a modest, white house, the garage empty, wild bushes devouring the garden. He scowled slightly at the sight, remembering the time and effort his mother used to spend on the garden. Back then, that had been her only worry. _Someday, I’ll help her weeding it out._

As soon as he stepped inside, he noted the silence. Before, she would’ve welcomed him home from school with a wide smile. He would pretend to be annoyed by her chirpiness and run to his room on first opportunity. Now, he wished he could go back in time.

He brought his bag upstairs to his room and slumped in the chair. Tired, he ran a hair over his face, rubbing gently at his eyes. Gathering energy, he reached for his notebook, wanting to finish homework as quick as possible. However, when he reached inside, his hands found a smaller, leathery book, he couldn’t recall. He frowned, wondering as he pulled the book out, weighing it curiously in his hand. Then he remembered. He slapped his forehead, annoyed with himself that he hadn’t handed the book in. He had completely forgotten about it in his rush. He turned the book over, wondering who the owner was.

_It can’t hurt to just…_ Letting his curiosity take the better of him, he opened the book on the first page. He couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed when there was no name scribbled on the front. Flipping the page, he read the first entry.

_4 th of July_

_This is my official first entry to this so-called diary, which my parents are sure will ‘cure’ me._

_I can’t say I’m surprised, nor convinced. If anything, I think writing down what’s happening to me, will only make me feel more disgusted with myself. They say I’ll look back and marvel at how far I’ve come, once I get better. They’ve failed to acknowledge the giant risk that I may not. I think they’re in denial. I heard them talking to the doctors, while they thought I was asleep._

_‘He’s not usually like this’_

_‘We’re terribly shocked’_

_‘What would possess him into doing such a thing?’_

_This just proves, that they know nothing about me. Which doesn’t really help my case at all. I wish I wasn’t here. Who the bloody hell fucks up jumping off a building anyway?_

Thomas inhaled sharply. This was someone’s diary. And not just that; this was someone writing about their attempted suicide. He really shouldn’t read this. This was none of his business. The weight of the words struck him hard, and he suddenly had trouble breathing. He threw the book away, distantly hearing it clatter on the ground. Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths, trying to veer his thoughts somewhere else. _Not this. Not again. I can’t._ Slowly, his breath evened out, his grip around the desk easing. _I never should’ve picked up that stupid book,_ he thought bitterly, gritting his teeth. Exhausted, he threw himself onto his bed, closing his eyes, trying to clear his clouded mind of any thoughts.

It wasn’t before the sound of a door closing disrupted him, that he realised, he had fallen asleep. He shot up, ignoring the sudden rush of dizziness, and looked at his phone. It was well over 6 pm. He grunted, realising he was extremely late for cooking dinner, and hadn’t finished his homework. Lazily, he got up and headed downstairs, where his mom was drinking a glass of water.

“Hi mom. Sorry, I’ll go shop for some dinner now, I fell asleep,” he gave her a welcoming smile, grabbing his wallet from the kitchen table. She had smiled seeing him, but frowned at his words.

“You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you? Let me make dinner tonight, honey, you should rest if you’re not feeling well and I don’t mind –“ she rambled, already out of her seat and on her way to put her coat on, when he gently ushered her back, interrupting her.

“It’s fine mom, I’m okay. I just completely forgot. I’ll be back soon,” before she could argue, he was out the door, tying a red scarf around his neck.

The autumn wind was cold, but also comforting, the freshness clearing his mind and cooling his head. He walked down the familiar neighbourhood, listening to birds preparing for winter, children playing on the local playground, elder couples reminiscing their past. He loved people. Loved listening to them, watching them, getting to know them. He had always found himself happier when surrounded by people, by friends. Usually, it was easy for him to get along with all kinds of people. They loved his quirkiness, his optimism, his easy-going character. He used to be the kid everyone knew, everyone liked. In the beginning of his 10th year in school, he was bombarded with invitations to all kinds of events. Now? Well, people still remembered the person he was, and he was still cheery and ecstatic. But he rarely went to parties. There were too many things to take care of at home, and he would feel guilty for having a great time, while his mother was struggling at home. Sometimes he went, though, but only to not make his mother worry. He knew, she remembered how social he had been a year ago. He didn’t want her to feel guilty.

A bell chimed as he walked into the local grocery store. He didn’t dwell too much by the shelves, knowing he was late enough as it was. Luckily, there weren’t too many in the store, and he quickly paid for the food and was on his way back.

While walking in a brisk pace, he thought back to the book he had accidentally brought home. _I really should hand it in tomorrow._ His thoughts changed to the owner of the book. Who didn’t write their name in a diary? _Someone who writes about their suicide._ He shook his head immediately, not wanting to dwell on the thought.

When he got home, he started preparing dinner immediately, busying himself. His mother sent him worried looks, but he shrugged them off with a comforting smile. They ate together, discussing their days. Thomas didn’t mention nor think of the black leather book until he lay in his bed. There, the thoughts crept back in his mind, causing him to twist and turn. He cursed quietly, shutting his eyes tightly, forcing himself to stay in bed.

He would _not_ read another page.

*******

“It’s not here!” the blond shrieked, his room a mess after his outbreak. He had nearly torn his backpack in his search for a small, but valuable, book. Luckily, his aunt had already left for her nightshift, leaving him alone in the small apartment. He heard a faint sound from his phone on the desk, picking it up to squeeze it between his ear and shoulder while continuing to scrutinise his room.

“Calm down, Newt. It has to be somewhere,” a voice sounded from the other end.

“I’m telling you, Alby, it’s not here! I’ve looked everywhere! It must’ve fallen out in school,” he says irritably, scowling as he realises.

“No, no! It can’t! What if someone finds it, and reads it? It can’t happen, Alby, it can’t!” He runs a hand frustrated through his hair, pulling at it slightly, his voice breaking slightly. Though he had first been doubtful of the effects his parents had hoped the small diary would provide, it had proved to be a relieving place, where he could vent. He wrote all his thoughts in there, the good, the bad, things he hadn’t told anyone, not even Alby.

“Newt. Newt! Calm down. Take a deep breath.” The blonde stopped in his frantic search to listen to his best friend’s advice. Once doing so, his heart immediately calmed, his mind clearing.

“Look, tomorrow you’ll go to the lost and found box. Chances are, some shank found it, thought it was some kind of notebook and delivered it. They probably didn’t look twice at it, alright?” As always, Alby’s calm person calmed him. He felt heat rush to his face, as he realised, he was right.

“Yeah. Sorry, Alby. It’s just so important to me,” he said quietly, collapsing onto his bed.

“Hey, no worries. I gotta go though, duties calling. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you,” he replied, throwing his phone on his bed when the call disconnected. He threw an arm over his eyes, trying not to imagine what could happen if someone read it. Instead, he focused on Alby’s advice. He was grateful for his best friend. After his transfer, he had felt out of place, abnormal. The dark-skinned man had at first been cold, calculating. But after they were paired up, he warmed up, gradually becoming more and more friendly. He took care of him, showed him around, introduced him to his friends, and soon Newt felt more at home, than he had ever felt back in England.

With a slightly less troubled mind, he fell into a somewhat peaceful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so sure how this chapter turned out.. We'll see how you guys like it c:  
> I'm so happy this fic has already gotten great feedback! c: Thank you so much!  
> As always, comments are highly appreciated and very welcome!  
> xoxo

Thomas woke up to the sound of his mother hurrying about downstairs. He sighed deeply, when he realised he’d slept too long to send her on her way. The sound of the door shutting encouraged him to finally get up. He quickly dressed, grabbing his backpack on the way downstairs. Once in the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of juice and prepared some cereal. Just as he sat down by the dining table, he noticed a small square of paper.

_I’m working nightshift tonight, so I won’t be home until early morning. Love you, mom_

He frowned slightly at the note, wishing his mother didn’t need to work so much. More than everything, he wished his dad hadn’t left them in this position. Shaking his head violently, he nearly threw the dishes in the sink. He walked briskly out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

No, he would not think about that.

*******

First thing in the morning, Newt ran to the office to look in the lost and found box. He nearly ran into a couple of students, even a couple of teachers, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not while his book was still missing. He slowed his pace once he reached the desired place, catching his breath. His hand instinctively went to his throbbing leg, and he cursed himself inwardly for putting too much pressure on it. It had only been weeks since his ‘incident’, and his leg hadn’t healed properly. He closed his eyes, hoping to lead his mind away from the topic. Once his heart calmed, he walked into the office, his eyes immediately drawn to a wooden box near the secretary. She was busy talking on the phone, but she gave him a quick smile to acknowledge his presence. He smiled back, trying to restrain himself from rushing to the box. Newt hunched over it, his hands digging through the various scarfs, coats, and other forgotten possessions. No matter how much he looked, he could not find anything similar to his lost book.

“You lookin’ for something hon?” a voice sounded from behind. He jumped slightly from the sound, turning around to meet her.

“Uhm, I was just wondering, did anyone deliver a black leather book yesterday by any chance?” he asked, focusing his energy on talking clearly, while fidgeting with the rim of his pants. The secretary looked thoughtful for a second, thinking back. Then she shook her head.

“No, I don’t recall anything like that. Would you like me to announce its missing?” she asked gently, her hand already hovering over the call-button. His face flushed from embarrassment.

“N-no, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he hurried out of the room. Once out of her sight he took deep breaths to calm himself. He cursed himself for losing the grip on himself and once more for losing the book in the first place. Where could it be?

*******

First period was rather relaxing. They were watching a movie on the Cold War, supposed to be taking notes, but luckily, Thomas had done a project on said subject in 5th grade, one that described everything the movie mentioned, so he allowed himself to simply enjoy the rareness of a lazy class. Though, his luck didn’t follow him throughout the day. His next class was much less enjoyable, his English teacher having a bad time understanding his point of views, ending with extra homework for him.

When he met up with Teresa during lunch, it seemed she’d had a similar morning. They discussed useless teachers, created pitiful backgrounds for them, and laughed about said stories. Teresa pouted when he announced he had to leave early, and he in return chuckled, causing her to smile as well. He made his way towards the secretary’s office, knowing he’d postponed delivering the diary too much. Just outside the office, he took off his backpack reaching in to find the small book. When his hand didn’t find the desired object, he frowned, and turned his backpack upside down. Textbooks, notebooks, pencils, and pens scattered on the ground. The diary was nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. How could he have forgotten? His cheeks reddened as he collected his books, dumping them haphazardly into his bag. He practically dragged his feet to his next class, the guilt of keeping the diary from the poor person consuming him. Not one to let his mood fall, he shook his head, putting on his regular smile and readied for next class.

He managed to keep the diary out of his mind until track practise. Minho, the captain of their team, made them do the usual laps around the field, giving Thomas plenty of time to dwell on his thoughts. Track practise had always been his favourite part of school. He felt so free running, his mind instantly cleared, and it became easier to see things as they were. That’s how he realised, he couldn’t just hand the diary in. He needed to read, no matter how much it stood against his principles of privacy. He couldn’t just deliver a diary in where some person had confessed their attempted suicide. He had to _know._ Why would a person do such a thing? What was their drive? Questions of _why_ swirled in his head, driving him insane, and he nearly took off, running home to where he knew the diary would be.

Minho noticed his remoteness, punishing him with more laps, delaying him further. He was usually one of the fastest boys, but too caught up in his thoughts, he had been well behind the others. Once he entered the changing rooms, there was no one but him. He quickly showered and changed, throwing his backpack on his shoulder and nearly flew out of the door. He ran the whole way, his patience having run out. He startled a few people on his way, and he shouted an apology before hurrying on. He threw the door open, not even stopping to take off his shoes as he ran upstairs. Breathing heavily, he looked around, spotting the familiar black diary under his desk. He scrambled to get it, and collapsed into his chair, while reaching over to turn his desk lamp on. He opened the second page, seeing the entry he had already read and moved on to the next, hoping there’d be an explanation.

_5 th of July_

_Still no reason to live, will update soon._

His heart fell with disappointment at the vague entry. Taking a couple of deep breaths, the adrenaline disappeared and his breathing evened. Shaking the disappointment away, he upheld hope and read on.

_6 th of July_

_No alien thought of thinking life is worth it._

Many entries were similar, and he skimmed them quickly, trying to find something different.

_10 th of July_

_I heard my aunt cry tonight. This is my fault._

The sudden change of tone made him pause. Before, the person had written with dark humour, as though they had no care in the world. This was different. Though short, the entry was dripping with regret. Thomas leaned closer, reading closely.

_11 th of July_

_This is my last day in the hospital. They say my leg will never be the same, but at least I don’t have to wither here in the building of death. Wouldn’t that be ironic? They’re giving me crutches that I have to use at least an hour every day. My parents are leaving today as well. I don’t know if I’m ready to face my aunt alone. She gave me everything, and I’ve let her down. Idiot._

Thomas mentally slapped himself for not realising. Of course, he would be hospitalised. He’d jumped off a building. That had consequences. Though, not the consequences the person had hoped for. He suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable, reading about the personal relationship to the aunt. He felt slightly guilty for labelling the person as selfish, when he read the deep regret he had.

_12 th of July_

_Please don’t look like that. Please don’t pity me. I don’t want it. I don’t want you to look at me, as if I’m a wounded animal. I know you don’t think I know, but I hear you crying. I see your forced smile. Please. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I’m sorry._

At first Thomas didn’t quite understand, but he gathered the person was talking to their aunt. The person mentioned their parents leaving the day before. Was their relationship not good? Why didn’t they live with them? He had so many questions, but all he could do was read on.

_13 th of July_

_There’s not much to do but write in this stupid thing, when you’re on house arrest. I’m still not convinced this thing is working, but at least it gives me a place to vent. I’m not allowed to talk to anyone, not even my best friend. My parents call every day to check up on me. Mostly I let my aunt answer them. I don’t really feel like answering their demanding questions. I’m so tired. So tired of everything. Why can’t they just leave me alone?_

The words were like a revelation to Thomas. Someone didn’t just magically recover from such a serious thing, despite the light, humorous tone the person had kept. He probably used it as some sort of defence mechanism, denying his obvious need for help. His heart clenched even more. Who was this person before? How did this person greet students in the hallway? Did they cover everything up with a smile? Did they distance themselves from everyone? He was eager to learn more, but at the same time dreading, what he might find. Even so, his mind couldn’t be put to rest without reading on.

_14 th of July_

_Not much to report. I didn’t do much. It’s kind of hard to do anything with a useless leg._

_15 th of July_

_A bird flew by my window._

_16 th of July_

_My aunt isn’t crying anymore. Now she just has this dark look. This disappointed look. It’s much worse._

_17 th of July_

_Nothing matters. Not even my aunt. She’s given up on me, I think. Who wouldn’t? I’m useless. Worthless. Pathetic._

The harsh words made Thomas’ heart clench. He had a sudden urge to find this person and hold them close. It tore his heart apart to think that they would feel such despair. He felt slightly angry with the person’s guardians. How could they allow this? What had happened to this poor kid that they felt so out of place, so abnormal, that they felt the only solution was suicide? And even now, as the person was obviously distressed and without purpose in life. Did no one value them higher? Did no one take care of him, like they should? He shook his head in disgust, and continued.

_18 th of July_

_I’m no longer under house arrest, but I don’t really feel like going out. The outside shouldn’t be stained by someone like me. A failure like me._

_19 th of July_

_I don’t deserve living. I’ve made everything worse._

_20 th of July_

_My aunt forced me outside today. She woke me up with a stern look on her face, saying we’d take a walk in the park. Though I know she’s uncomfortable with me, she helped me the entire day. I made more progress with my leg than I did last week. At least now she’ll talk to me._

Thomas released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. The diary was getting under his skin, and he felt himself get more and more concerned by this person. He smiled slightly, grateful the aunt had taken the first step. He just hoped the person wouldn’t push her away.

_21 st of July_

_We went for a walk again. This time she asked me, what I wanted for dinner. I don’t know how she does it, but somehow I feel more at ease now. I just wish she could forgive me. Though, that’s impossible. I can’t even forgive myself._

His smile faltered slightly. Surely, this was the past, right? This was not the current situation of the person? He cursed his tendency to assume things, and forced himself to patiently read.

_22 nd of July_

_My parents called today, as usual. This time was different. My aunt handed me the phone, saying it was necessary for me to answer them._

_They wanted me to come home. For a while, I couldn’t breathe properly. I considered it. I knew my aunt would be happier without me. All I’ve brought her is pain. She said it was my decision. But then she kissed me on my head._

_My mother has never done that to me before._

_I decided to stay._

He suddenly felt very angered towards the person’s parents. Obviously, they played a big part in the attempted suicide. Hell, he even suspected they were more that the reason behind it. He was beginning to understand the person more and more, but it wasn’t enough.

_23 rd of July_

_My aunt’s relieved. I thought she’d be angry, but she hugged me tightly when I told her. Is this how it feels to have a home?_

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, he’d become very involved with the matter quite quickly. He felt strangely privileged to be reading the diary. A sudden rush of guilt surged through him. After all, he wasn’t supposed to read all this. He didn’t know the person, and he didn’t know how _he’d_ feel if someone read all about his troubles. He wasn’t one to easily trust people with his darkest secret, and few people knew him to the core. Actually, only Teresa knew him that well. A wave of sadness made him put the book down. _I really should turn this in. It’s not mine to keep,_ he thought, watching the closed book. Deciding to do the right thing, he packed it in his backpack so he was sure to bring it tomorrow. It was then he noticed the time. It was almost 10, and he hadn’t even had dinner. He stood still, blinking a few times. _Have I really spent that much time on this little book?_ He eyed the diary in his backpack, biting his lip. _No. No, I can’t._ Shaking his head, he threw himself on his bed, turning his back to it and forcing himself to go to sleep. Even if it wasn’t that late, he didn’t trust himself to be awake with the diary.

_This is for the best,_ he thought as he drifted off to sleep. His dreams showed a wounded bird, surrounded by large, growling shadows, toying with the helpless creature.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey, I made it!  
> Just barely - it's actually 1 am over here, heh... whooops..  
> But here it is - the new chapter!  
> If their reactions seem a bit weird, that probably has a good reason, which will be explained later *wink wink*  
> Thank you so much for the support! It really encourages me to write more as soon as possible! :-)  
> You guys are the best!  
> Let me know how I did in this chapter, yeah?  
> xoxo

The room was a chaos. Shelves were wiped, their content lying on the floor, dressers had their empty drawers wide open, the mess on the floor making up for the empty space. In the middle of it, sat a young man, legs folded beneath him, his face in his hands. _My book. It’s completely gone._ Newt had searched every place he had been yesterday before he dropped his book, going through the day and the places he’d been. His book was nowhere to be seen. He had then scoured every inch of his room. With no luck. Now, he was contemplating whether it was worth it to start a new one, or just bottle up all of his thoughts like he used to. Probably the latter.

He faintly registered the sound of the front door opening, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from his devastated state. The footsteps got louder as she approached his room before finally, the door swung open.

“Newt, are you ho –“ she stopped in her track, seeing the state of his room. Newt merely grunted a reply, knowing but not really caring that he’d be in trouble for it.

“What happened here?” she managed to utter, her eyes falling on the unsymmetrically positioned bed due to his attempt to flip it over. Newt heaved a sigh, causing her eyes to shift to him. Immediately, she rushed to him.

“Newt! Newt, what’s wrong?” she stroked his head gently, finally making him look up at her. By the sight of his dry eyes, she sighed relieved. Her heart calmed, and her eyes softened, the panic she had felt easing quickly.

“What’s getting to you, sweetie?” she said softly, continuing to stroke his hair. He met her eyes. The comforting look she gave him encouraged him enough to lean into her touch. They sat peacefully for a while, her giving him the time he needed.

“I lost the book” he finally whispered. She didn’t need any explanation, knowing exactly which book he would care enough about to lose.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered back, pulling him closer. “If you want, we can go buy a new one” she offered gently. He was immensely grateful for the offer, his heart swelling with warmth. This was something he only experienced after he moved in with his aunt. Usually, no one cared enough to help him. But she always did. He shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Who knows, maybe someone found it and brought it in today while I was searching for it,” he said, though he didn’t sound convincing, not even to himself. If she noticed, she didn’t mention it. She merely gave him a kiss on the crown of his head and made to stand up.

“That’s good. Then you can clean up the mess in your room. Dinner’s in 30 minutes,” she stopped by the door to give him a smile, her tone jokingly strict. He grunted at her order, but returned her smile nevertheless. He felt extremely grateful to her. When everyone else rejected him and no one wanted to help him, she took him in, cared for him when no one else did.

He shook his head slightly, not wanting to get his thoughts on that track, knowing he didn’t know when to stop. So instead, he picked himself up and began the impossible quest of cleaning his room.

*******

“Thomas. Hey! Thomas!”

The voice snapped him out of his daze, and he immediately noticed the hurdle getting closer to him. He put his heels in the ground trying to slow down but his momentum was too quick. With no way of stopping, he ran into the obstacle, falling over and face-planting on the track. He grunted in pain, already feeling blood running down his chin.

A certain book had occupied his mind all day. He hadn’t been able to concentrate at all, the guilt of not returning it weighing heavily in his backpack. Yet his need of reading more and his curiosity made him keep it. Even in track practice, where his mind was usually clear. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He _needed_ to know. A shadow passed over him, and he looked up to see the captain looking down at him, arms crossed.

“You need some help, greenie?” he asked, his tone indicating even if he did, he wouldn’t help. That was no surprise coming from Minho. Thomas quickly shook his head, but regretted it immediately, his head banging painfully.

“No, I’m – I’m good I just –“ he said while standing up, but stopped when a sudden wave of dizziness hit him and he had to step backwards to stop himself from falling. Seeing he had trouble standing straight, Minho caught his arm, steadying him.

“Nurse. Now, greenie. And don’t come back before next practise,” he ordered, making sure he was able to stand on his own before letting him go. Thomas nodded slightly, not daring to go against his orders. He walked to the changing room slowly, the shock easing. Looking in the mirror, he grimaced. His nose was running with blood, slowly coagulating, and he had a split lip. Other than that, he hadn’t suffered as much damage as he could have. Cursing himself for losing himself to his thoughts, he ran his towel under the sink, cleaning his blood. He winced as the material touched his sore lip. _How could I be this stupid?_ The book was giving him more frustrations than it did him any good. After all, he still hadn’t found the answer, he was looking for. Shaking his head, he decided.

_I have to return it._

*******

_I can’t return it._ Looking at the book in his hand, hovering about the wooden box, Thomas found, he couldn’t let it go. The secretary had gone home for the day, but the door hadn’t been locked, so he had helped himself in, intending on finally returning the book. But he couldn’t do it. There he was, _finally_ having a chance of finding an answer he had been looking for, for a _year._ He couldn’t just let that chance slip away.

_This book is getting to my head. It’s taking over my life._ Even Teresa had stated so during lunch, and during the classes, they had spent together. Not that he had told her about it. But she had seen through him, and noticed his mind was somewhere else.

“Thomas! What’s so important, that you can’t listen to a word I’m saying?” she had scolded him, drawing him out of his head. He had apologised, but not long after, he was lost again. In the end, she had left him to eat by himself. _I still need to make up for that,_ he thought, cringing.

The book stayed in his hand, weighing nothing. He glanced at it. _It couldn’t hurt to just…_ He looked around. _I mean, it’s not like the owner will come back to check the box today…_ Taking a final look around the room, he put the book in his jacket. He hesitated by the door. Shaking his head, he briskly walked out of the school.

He got about 200 meters before he started running. His mind was all about the book in his pocket, but for once, he didn’t let himself feel bad for it. The usual road felt twice as long with the anticipation driving him. He couldn’t get home quick enough.

Seeing his house, he quickened his pace. He ran inside, up the stairs, for the second time in two days. He felt slightly guilty for running in with dirty shoes, and had the courtesy to throw them off. When he heard the sound of his shoes thump on the ground, another sound emerged.

“Thomas?” He stopped at the top of the stairs by the sound of his mother’s voice. He stiffened visibly, now remembering she’d had a nightshift the night before, and therefore had the day off.

“Mom!” he walked down a few steps, still itching to get to his room, but also knowing how rare it was for her to be home while he was. She walked around the corner, looking up at him from the bottom of the stairs.

“Welcome home,” she said with a smile, it lightening up her features in contrast to the dark circles around her eyes. Her smile fell quickly when she took in the state of her son.

“Thomas! What happened to you?” her worried tone made him grimace, but the movement gave a sudden pain, and he remembered why he was let off early in the first place.

“Oh, yeah, no this? This is nothing; I fell during track practice that’s all. Don’t worry mom, I’m fine, really,” he said hurriedly, hoping to remove the dark look in her eyes. When she gave a relieved sigh, he deemed himself successful.

“Are you in a hurry?” she asked, noticing he was almost in his room. His heart clenched slightly from guilt, but he couldn’t wait a minute longer.

“Yeah, sorry mom, I’m drenched in homework. I should –“ he said hesitantly, indicating to his room. She nodded with a light sigh, her eyes softening.

“It’s okay, you do your work. Don’t worry about dinner either.” Before he could reply, she waved him off and returned to their living room. Inwardly apologising, he ran to his room.

He didn’t think twice before throwing his bag away, flopping onto his bed, and opening the diary. Taking a deep breath, he found the day he’d reached.

_24 th of July_

_My aunt gave me back my phone today. There were a lot of missed calls, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty. He didn’t know what happened to me, I realised. I should probably tell him. But how?_

Thomas frowned at the paper. _He? Who’s he?_ The person hadn’t mentioned anyone like this before. He felt a strange tug in his chest. Scowling at himself, he reminded himself this was not the reason for his search. Heat rose to his cheeks, as he flipped through the pages, frantically searching for something, _anything_ , that could be useful.

_25 th of July_

_I went outside -_

_27 th of July_

_I finally talked to –_

No. No.

_29 th of July_

_Today we went to –_

No. No. No. _No!_

Frustrated, he threw the book to the other end of his room. He buried his face in his pillow and cried out in anger. _Useless, useless, **useless!**_ He thrashed violently, biting into his sheets and hitting his mattress repeatedly.

Eventually, he calmed down, the hot tears streaming down his cheeks continuing to fall. His heart beat unsteadily, threatening to burst through his chest. Slowly, it reached a normal pace. He turned his head to look at where the book had landed. Dragging himself up, he slouched towards the book, sliding down the wall next to it and picking it up. He was about to read, when he noticed the page, it was open on.

It wasn’t an entry. Not one he could read, anyway. It was a picture. Or, a sketch. Curious, he flipped the book vertically to get the full picture. Looking at it properly, he noticed its raw beauty. He was not usually one to admire arts, but this page was filled with so much emotion in every stroke, that even _he_ noticed the drawer’s talent. Fresh tears dropped from his eyes, and he hurriedly stretched his arms to get the book away from his destroying tears. The art pictured a skull, the one side looking perfectly normal. The other part was twisted sickly, some parts looking like blood flowing, spears and spikes cutting through the head. Other parts were flowers, blossoming through the eye socket, stars priding the white bone. He flipped a page back to see if there was any description following.

_1 st of August_

_I started drawing again._

The simple sentence was enough for Thomas to understand just how important that one thing was. This was the person’s way of expressing themselves. This was a way of escaping the reality. Or maybe the exact opposite. To face what had been done. What the person had done. This was their way of coping. Just like his had been to busy himself. Granted, his had not been the best method. But seeing as he had plenty to look after with his mother and the funeral… Well, he didn’t really have the time to grieve properly. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to be patient, and go back to where he had left off.

_25 th of July_

_I went outside again. It’s starting to become a daily trip. I’ve come to look forward to it. Though, my leg still hasn’t reached optimal levels of functioning properly yet. The doctors say it may never will._

Thomas frowned. It was bad enough for the person to feel horrible enough to attempt suicide, but this person had a daily reminder of what they had done. No one deserved that.

_26 th of July_

_I’m starting to figure out this whole leg-thing. It’s not that bad, if I don’t strain it too much._

_Also, my aunt is beginning to speak normally to me now. There’s still a hint of fright in her eyes every once in a while, and she doesn’t even allow me to eat with a knife yet._

The more he read, the more he realised how big a part this played in the person’s life. He didn’t even think about them not being able to do regular things, such as eating with a knife because someone feared they might hurt themselves.

_27 th of July_

_I finally talked to him. He got angry with me. Shouted at me through the phone for quite a while. I nearly couldn’t breathe. My aunt heard, and took the phone away immediately. She says I can have it back in a while. But how long is that?_

Thomas inhaled sharply at the entry. He had after some thought come to the conclusion that the mentioned _him_ was the aforementioned best friend. He couldn’t imagine how it felt like to first have thought your life worthless enough to throw away, and _then_ get the people you care about the most to hate you for it. He shivered by the thought of his own loved ones doing that to him.

_28 th of July _

_I’m sure he hates me. I don’t blame him. After all, I hate me too._

He flinched. Was this really how they thought? He couldn’t believe that. He wouldn’t! _This is sick,_ he thought, before once again throwing the book away.

He marched downstairs, where his mother was cooking, walking over to help her. She smiled gratefully when he moved to cut the vegetables.

For the rest of the night, he didn’t think more about that _stupid_ _book._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, we get a bit of background now!  
> Sorry this chapter is a little bit short, I'm a bit tired ^u^  
> By the way, if any of you guys have any ideas to this (or possibly a brand new) fic, then feel free to leave suggestions! I know where I want to go with this fic, but I'm having a bit trouble piecing it perfectly together :pp  
> Anyway, hope you'll enjoy this chapter! c;  
> As always, I appreciate every single view/kudos/and of course those lovelies who comment!  
> xoxo

Thomas lay in his bed, thinking about what he had last read.

_After all, I hate me too._

He scrunched his nose in disgust, turning on his side. The person hated themselves. _Hated._ It was such a strong word. How could anyone _hate_ themselves? Sure, he had some things he didn’t like about himself but _hate_? _I don’t think I’ve ever hated **anyone** that badly. _ He bit his lip. _Well… Except **him** of course._ He turned again, facing away from the wall. His eyes landed on the small black book, lying underneath his desk. The sight of it, made his anger rise again.

_That couldn’t be the only reason. It doesn’t make sense! How could anyone be so… so **selfish?**_

Just as he had thought so, his face immediately softened. What was happening to him? He wasn’t a person to judge others. He couldn’t blame a complete stranger for their actions. He sighed heavily, guilt consuming him. _What am I doing?_ His eyes brimmed with tears. Concluding he wouldn’t get any sleep like this, he sat up in his bed, running a hand through his hair.

_Since when did I lose myself like this? Was I already lost?_

*******

Newt woke up to a gentle knock on his door. Immediately checking the clock on his nightstand, he sighed relieved when he realised he wasn’t late. He mumbled a husky ‘come in’, sitting up in the bed to see his aunt come in. She was smiling widely, making her young face even more beautiful. Her blue eyes shone with cheerfulness, and Newt couldn’t help but smile back.

“I made you breakfast,” she said, and Newt saw the tray she was carrying. There was a cup with steaming tea, a plate with a bagel and some fruit.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he gasped, completely at loss for words. She simply sat down next to him, offering the tray to his lap. He gratefully took a sip of the tea, the warmth instantly soothing his throat, and he let out an involuntary sigh.

“Thanks, Sonya. You’re too good to me.” In response, she affectionately caressed his morning hair, patting it down slightly. She let him eat his breakfast in peace, leaving his room to prepare for work. He sat for a while, enjoying the silence. _I’ve really been lucky._

It was about two and a half years ago he moved in with his aunt, just before starting high school. He had hated it in England. His parents were never home, and when they were, they had been too busy to care for their son. He grew up without any sort of physical or mental support, his parents too obsessed with their careers than their family. Why people like them had bothered having children, he couldn’t comprehend. They were highly positioned, so maybe they had just expected him to be like them. They raised him cold and cynically, never stopping to play with him or doing what parents should do with their children. Then hell broke loose when they found out what he used his free time on.

He liked to paint. He _loved_ to paint. With a white canvas or a piece of paper, he felt stronger than ever. He could finally get all his frustration and emotions out. He could express himself how he wanted to. The canvas listened to him. The paper let him rage, love, cry. The paint was his only friend, comforting him. The pencil was following his every command, letting _him_ show the way for once.

But his parents couldn’t accept that. It wasn’t a _high position_. It wasn’t a _stable financial support_. He wouldn’t make it, they said. He should go to medical school instead, they said. Or study law. Something _educationally acceptable_. That’s when he couldn’t take it anymore. Where he had before been lonely, he was now anxious. He wasn’t good enough. No one could ever accept him. Even his own parents couldn’t. It wasn’t long before he had then fallen into a severe depression. He started not caring. He stopped painting. He stopped drawing. He stopped eating. He stopped coming out of his room. In the end, he couldn’t even look at himself without feeling bad and he had to do something about it.

The day they found him in bloody sheets, was their wake up call. They finally realised something was wrong. So they sent him away. To his aunt in America. Truth be told, he was glad to finally get away from them. He blamed them. And then he felt guilty. But then he met her.

She was nervous at first. She was young, single, and didn’t have any children. She didn’t know how to behave, how to set boundaries, how to talk to someone who shut everyone out. But with every smile, with every dinner they spent _together_ – because he had always eaten alone – she slowly sneaked her way into his heart. It took some time, but he trusted her more and more for every month, every week, every day. After two years, he felt closer to her, than he had ever felt to anyone. He had even gotten friends in his new high school.

But then it happened. His parents had called. He had failed a class, due to his low attendance record. Sonya had comforted him, had said it didn’t mean anything and that he could always do it next year. The only reason he’d failed was because of his attendance, which had been low the first year, due to his depression still controlling him. His knowledge inside the field was on point and he had only gotten straight A’s when attending. But his parents were very disappointed in him. Never had they expected such a thing from him, they had said. They expected better. How could he have become so careless? So distant? Didn’t he know, that his career was on stake? He had to get better, or else he wouldn’t achieve anything in life. Not with that attitude.

That had done it. The two semi-good years suddenly didn’t mattered. All that mattered, was that he was a failure. So he did it. He found a tall building, climbed to the roof, and jumped.

He hadn’t planned on surviving. But he did. And the aftermath was so much worse.

But he lived. And he dealt with it.

Looking around the decorated room, canvases adorning the wall, drawings scattered on the floor, he realised. _At least it wasn’t for nothing._

*******

“Thomas?” Teresa asked carefully, prodding the sleeping form. He stirred slightly, grunting softly in his sleep. She repeated his name a bit louder, and pushed him more forcefully to finally awaken him. He jumped slightly, blinking several times to take in his surroundings. They were in the school library, _supposed_ to work on an assignment, but when Teresa had walked to fetch a book on their subject, she had come back to find him sound asleep on the table. Worry overtaking her, she frowned at him, trying to read his hazy eyes. It wasn’t typical for Thomas to doze off; he was usually so energetic and eccentric. Since his father’s death, his energy had fallen greatly, but he had still kept some of his wonder and amazement. Finally focusing on her worried face, he realised she wasn’t going to let him off without an explanation.

“Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze and looking down at his notes. _Right. The biology assignment._ When he looked up again, her face was filled with mistrust, but he really didn’t want to explain everything to her. He was too tired. He hadn’t been able to sleep at all, his thoughts whirling around the person, his feelings continuously shifting from anger to guilt and back again. To say he was troubled, was a major understatement. He was conflicted at least, torn between the two sides of him. The one wanting, _demanding_ to read on, the other morally wanting to stop and rightfully return the book. Getting lost in his thoughts again, he slapped himself on the cheek, triggering a surprised gasp from Teresa.

“So, biology?”

*******

In the end, he didn’t turn it in. Again. _What a joke,_ he thought, dragging his feet on the pavement. He didn’t bother hurry home, he was late already. Having been very distant the whole day, the teachers were bound to notice at some point, ending in detention for him. Which was not good, since it gave him even more time to reflect on the book. And also made him have to call in sick to work. He kicked a loose stone in his path, watching it jump across the road. Teresa was right. This wasn’t him. But he _needed_ to know. He needed answers. So he continued on his way home.

He lazily dropped his bag, not in any rush to continue in the book. He pulled himself up the rails and eventually collapsed tiredly on to his bed. He fiddled with his pocket to pull out the small book and opened on the next page.

_29 th of July_

_Today we went to an art supply shop. My aunt told me she’d noticed I’d sometimes doodle, and wondered if I wanted anything. I should just say the word, she said. It was incredible. The smell of paint, the variety of colours, the different textiles. I nearly couldn’t believe it. I felt so… at home. So at ease. But I didn’t dare. I didn’t buy anything. I wanted to. But I couldn’t. It’s not right. It’s a waste of my time._

_What?_ After seeing the beautifully drawn picture, Thomas couldn’t quite believe that this person could walk out of such a store without buying anything. Why didn’t they? What was wrong? If someone loved to do something, they should. If it brought them joy, then how could they throw that away? He was beginning to feel more and more confused by the person.

_30 th of July_

_I regret it. I can feel it in my gut. The longing for those supplies. For getting all these feelings out. This diary is the only thing I have to vent. But to paint… oh, what a relief that would be._

_But I can’t. It’s wrong. It’s unintelligent. It’s unworthy._

It was as though the last words were written by a completely different person. As though they were battling themselves whether it was right or wrong to paint. How could it be wrong to paint? Thomas couldn’t fathom it.

_31 st of July_

_She did it anyway. My aunt. She bought supplies. While I waited in the car, she bought some. I noticed it today. It’s in a small plastic bag under my desk. I just noticed, my desk can be flipped, so it’s easier to draw on. Did she plan this? How? How did she know? The bag is lying untouched, but my fingers are tingling every time I spot it. But I can’t. I shouldn’t. Should I?_

The next entries were the ones he had already seen. The drawing of the skull was still in great contrast to the white piece of paper, and somehow he understood it now. The battle the person had felt was this skull. When he flipped the page, he discovered the next couple were filled with doodles, sketches and sometimes full drawings. It was as if the person had finally released all of their emotions into the few pieces of paper. He studied them all, letting his finger follow the pencil trail. Each and everyone of them was somehow linked to this person. Their past. Their thoughts, their feelings, everything. Once again, he felt the strange tug in his heart that he had sensed recently. He let his hand go from the drawings to his heart, feeling the slightly unsteady rhythm.

_What is happening to me?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii!  
> I'm sorry for the mistakes that are bound to be there today... I didn't read it through properly and had to rewrite the whole thing, since word deleted everything... *huge sigh*  
> But here it is! Chapter 5! *yay* uwu  
> I'm not sure how much I'll be able to update the next couple of days, since a friend of mine is staying over :-) I'll try my best though!  
> A huge thanks to all of you lovelies! It really encourages me and warms my heart when you guys leave comments (even if I don't always answer! Mostly it's because I'm not sure how to answer, heh...)  
> xoxo

Newt was strolling down the hallway, head down, swift feet. It was lunchbreak, and he was supposed to be meeting Alby in the library. The busy student council president had finally found an opening for his best friend – well, as open as it got. Walking through the doors, he found him sitting by their usual table, buried in sheets of paper and various books. He strolled over and sat down opposite of him, finally making him look up from his studies.

“Oh, hey Newt,” he said, subtly putting a pencil in the book he was closing to not lose track of the page number.

“Busy?” he asked, gesturing towards the pile of books, files and whatnot.

“Nothing more than the usual,” Alby replied with a sigh. Though his duties could be tough, Alby wouldn’t change it for anything. He was the born leader, used to taking control of the situation. He liked being in charge and having people listen to him. Even if it meant he didn’t have as much time with his friends as he wanted to. Looking properly at his friend, he noticed the slightly tousled hair, and the moist eyes. Alby sighed.

“So, I assume you didn’t find your book then?” he said, his tone soft as he knew it was a sensitive subject. Newt merely waved a hand, dismissing the careful approach.

“No. It’s okay though. I realised, I don’t need it anymore.” He gave a slight smile to convince the dark-skinned student, and it felt strangely sincere. As he said it out loud, he knew it was right. The book had been a coping method, a way of dealing with his emotions. But now? Now, he had recovered his confidence and his passion in art. He had a new way of expressing himself. He didn’t need the book. He didn’t need to write down what was happening to him.

Alby looked him over suspiciously, but seemed to accept the sincere smile Newt offered.

“So, you’re not going to join the art club then, I assume?” Alby asked with a sly smile. Newt shook his head vigorously, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

While he was fully content with painting on his own, he was nowhere near the idea of showing it to others. He hadn’t even showed any of his works to Alby. Only his aunt had seen a fragment of his art, only due to her sometimes walking in on him painting, or because he couldn’t hide the larger canvases. However, at seeing Alby’s sheepish smile, he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth turning slightly upwards.

“Excuse me, Alby?” a small voice sounded from behind Newt, causing him to immediately drop his gaze and look at the table. Alby did the opposite, and looked up.

“We need your opinion,” she continued, when she noticed she had gotten his attention. He nodded slightly and waved her away, releasing a sigh when she was out of range. He shot the blond an apologising look, but Newt had already stood up, preparing to leave.

“Off with you. Duty calls,” he said, waving at him nonchalantly. He felt slightly sad, knowing he wasn’t going to see his best friend more that day, but he knew this was important to Alby, so he dealt with it.

“Sorry, Newt. I’ll text you later, yeah?” he offered with a slight smile before rushing off to the other student council members.

Newt picked up his bag, glad he had remembered his sketchbook and walked off to find the art room. He had found, it was deserted this time of day, giving him plenty of time to sit by himself and do what he liked the most.

*******

Thomas was sitting in the same spot for over an hour, which was quite impressive for his usual restlessness. When the bell had signalled the beginning of lunch break, and the other students had rushed off to enjoy their break, he had stayed back. His phone had several unanswered messages from Teresa, asking him where he was, he assumed, since he hadn’t shown up at their usual table. However, he was too engrossed with the small leathery book in front of him.

_2 nd of August_

_I got my phone back today. There were several messages and miscalls from, all of them from him. I didn’t answer any of them. How could I? He was so angry the last time… I can’t face him. He’s right after all. I don’t know what to say to him. What to do, to make it up for him. I probably never can._

_My parents have stopped calling daily now, which is quite a relief. I don’t really fancy talking to them about my ‘illness’ as they so adoringly call it. They don’t understand. They think it’s all just a ‘phase’. That I just need to ‘grow up’. Truthfully, I’m glad I don’t have to speak with them so frequently anymore. It’s better this way. Actually, it’d be best if they just forgot about me. I’m sure that’s not so difficult._

_After all, I’m their failure of a son. Who wouldn’t want to forget that?_

For the first time, Thomas felt anger, but this time not towards the author. This anger, was towards the friend. How could they not do anything? How could they be so angry, when their _best friend_ felt this way? If it were him, he would’ve shown up on their doorstep and hugged them senseless. His body tingled just at the thought.

And the parents? How could they be so ignorant, so oblivious? They expected him to be perfectly fine after such an ordeal? How? How was that fair? He was beginning to feel more and more enraged, but then realised, he had no excuse of doing so. This wasn’t his own parents, or even his friend’s parents. This was a _stranger’s_ parents. He had no part in this. And yet, he felt like he knew the author more and more as he read on.

Flipping the page, he saw another drawing. This one pictured a caged bird, surrounded by faceless humans, pointing and laughing. His heart ached at the sight. This was exactly how the author felt. Ridiculed. Made fun of. Disrespected. As a freak, something _inhumane._ Thomas’ throat constricted painfully. They didn’t deserve this. _No one_ deserved to feel this way.

_3 rd of August_

_My aunt asked if she could see any of my paintings today. I couldn’t breathe properly. I feel so ridiculous. She had to sit with me for half an hour to calm me down._

_I just couldn’t do it. Showing her my paintings, my drawings, would be like showing her my soul. They are my everything. They are me. They are my deepest emotions, my seldom joys, my greatest fears, my darkest secrets. It would be like tearing my heart out and trusting her to take care of it. I’m not able to do that. I’m not sure I’ll **ever** be able to do that._

_Will I ever be able to trust – or even **love** – someone that deeply? I doubt it._

Thomas gasped for breath. His palms began sweating nervously, his shirt suddenly feeling extremely tight. _He_ had seen those paintings. _He_ had seen their portrayed emotions. _He_ had looked into the very soul of the author. _Without permission,_ a little voice whispered in the back of his head. The chair scraped against the floor as he pushed himself away from the book. He covered his face with his hands, his cold fingers soothing his warm eyes. He dragged his collar, uncomfortably aware of the moistness of his skin. His breath was ragged, and his eyes were itchy. He put a hand to his heart as though he could slow the rapid beating. _This is wrong. This is terribly wrong._ He should return it. He really should. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from scooting closer and turning the page.

_4 th of August_

_I was just reminded, I need to go back to school in two days. I’m not ready. I have to face all of them._

_I can’t do it._

Thomas forgot his previous uncomfortableness, his heart slowing to a normal pace, though he frowned. They were expected to go _back_? Just like that? How was that going to help? After such a devastating incident, the author was expected to go back to normal circumstances, as if nothing had happened? He tried to wrap his brain around the idea, but even with his intelligent mind, he couldn’t understand the purpose.

Then he realised what would’ve happened if they _hadn’t_ gone back to school normally. If they had taken a month or two’s leave, he would’ve never found the book. He wouldn’t have picked it up, or forgetting to return it. He wouldn’t have read it and then refusing to give it back. He would’ve walked around normally, completely unaware that someone had gone through this much of an ordeal.

_The book has taken over my life,_ he realised. He had ditched Teresa several times. He had let his mother do _his_ chores, something he’d swore, he’d never let happen.

He would’ve never seen this new perspective, and would’ve never believed anyone, if they told him about it. He had never understood those who committed – or attempted to commit – suicide, and had always deemed them selfish. But now? Now he had literally read the mind of someone like that, and he had _understood_. For the first time in a year, he had let go of his anger and _understood_. It was incredibly relieving. But had it all been worth it?

He found his answer, when he flipped the page.

*******

The day had gone by painfully slow. Just as he had been about to read on, the bell had rung, and he had shoved the book into his bag, running to his next class. He had then spent the class apologising to Teresa, as they had a shared class and she was ignoring him, which was quite impressive considering they were sharing an assignment. She had demanded an explanation (which, to be fair, was reasonable) and he, not one keen on lying, had uttered several incomprehensible words, reluctant to tell her the truth. He felt strangely possessive over the book, wanting the secret to be his alone. So she had gone back to ignoring him.

Now, he was at the local mechanic shop, making up for the day he hadn’t worked. He had stayed longer than usual, trying to make it up for the goodhearted but sole owner. At the end of the day, he was covered in dirt with smudges all over his face, his tank top soaked in various liquids.

Walking home, the cool air soothed his sweaty body, causing him to shiver delightfully. When he stepped inside his house, the air was scented with spices, his stomach growling in anticipation. His mother was standing in the kitchen making the final touches to the dinner, but she turned around when she heard him enter.

“Hi honey.” Her face scrunched at the sight of him, and he realised, he wasn’t exactly looking proper for dinner.

“Hi mom. I’ll just take a quick shower,” he replied, smiling slightly at the look of disgust on her face. She didn’t really like his job, wanted him to apply somewhere else where he didn’t get so dirty, but he quite liked it. He enjoyed getting his hands dirty, meddling with the mechanics and fixing stuff. He liked the theory behind science, but he loved experimenting, proving said theories. That was his passion.

She nodded approvingly before returning to her cooking, and he skipped upstairs. For once that week, he let his bag fall unattended on the floor and focused on simply being with his mother.

After all, when it was only the two of them, they had to take care of each other. And he certainly intended to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you guys!  
> I'm excited about the next one and how you'll take it!   
> I haven't written it completely, but I'll upload it as soon as I have! (Hopefully, it'll be tomorrow?)  
> Anyway, as always thank you guys so much for the great support!  
> Feel free to leave a comment, as usual c:  
> xoxo

_It was Wednesday. **That** Wednesday. The sun was shining brightly, reflecting in the soft snow. Birds were singing. It was nothing like those movies, were the sky was ominously grey and rain fell solemnly. It had been a perfect day. Until he came home and found his father dead in the living room. He had been the one to find him. His mother had been working, and he was just coming home from school. He had been excited too, knowing he was going to spend time with his father. Now, he would never be able to do that. He had stood in the doorway, frozen to the bone just staring at the corpse. Then he had broken down. His mother found him like that late in the evening when she returned. His eyes were red and dry from crying for hours and she didn’t understand, until her gaze turned to the living room. She screamed. A high-pitched scream for the whole neighbourhood to hear. And they did. They came running in the door to see what had happened. There they found a wife cradling her dead husband, their son looking utterly despaired. He could still feel the emptiness, the void suddenly swallowing him whole. _

He woke up drenched in sweat. It had been a while since he’d had that dream. Looking over at his clock, he saw it was early morning, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. His eyes throbbed, the memory of his father lying still on the floor vivid as ever. Rubbing at his tired eyes, he stretched his soar limbs, feeling more tired than when he went to sleep. This was just another day he’d have to deal. Luckily, he didn’t have any training today, however he did need to babysit the neighbour kid. Just thinking of the little curly haired boy, he immediately smiled, the horrible dream pushed to the back of his mind. He got up, grabbing some clothes on the way before moving towards the bathroom.

The cold water soothed his sweaty skin, washing away the anxiousness that had accompanied the dream. He forced himself to relax, his heartbeat steadying to a normal rhythm. The sound of his mother’s scream was still stuck in his mind, the pitch staying like tinnitus. He wondered if he’d ever forget that day. _Probably not._

When he got out and dressed, he noticed he still had at least an hour before he had to go. Deciding he had nothing better to do, he picked his favourite book up and started reading.

_5th of August_

_School’s tomorrow. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I stayed up all night painting. It helped a bit, but my anxiety is still flaring up quite heavily. My aunt notices, but she reassures me, it’ll be for the better. She says it’ll be good for me to get into a ‘normal’ environment. To put a rest to the drama lately. I’m starting to think she might be right. It would be good, wouldn’t it? To just try to live a normal life, with people who have no clue of what has happened to me. Of course, some will ask about my leg. I’ll have to make up a story._

_Shit. I can’t run anymore._

The simple sentence struck Thomas hard. Being on the track team, running felt so natural to him. It felt like a given, something one couldn’t live without. It was his way of letting go, his way of relieving himself of all the pressuring thoughts. He couldn’t imagine going on without that.

The sound of water running interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to look at the clock. It hadn’t been long, but his mother was already up, so he decided to go down and prepare breakfast for both of them. It was the least he could do after having been so distant.

*******

Thomas was trying his hardest to focus in his math class, the teacher making no sense, and he realised, he had fallen a great deal behind. He took all the notes he could, while simultaneously trying to follow the lesson. Teresa was sitting on his left, still ignoring him but watching him curiously. She had never seen him work this hard. He had always found the scientific and mathematic subjects easy, so it wasn’t odd that she found it peculiar that he was struggling to follow.

At the end of the lesson, he was completely exhausted, his wrist aching and his head throbbing from the concentration he’d had to maintain. He sat in his desk taking a minute of rest when a notebook was dropped on his desk. Immediately he noticed the notes were from the previous lessons he hadn’t focused in. Curious, he raised his head to see the owner.

“I’m only doing this because I know you’re working hard enough as it is already,” Teresa huffed, refusing to look at him, her cheeks visibly coloured. Astonished, he accepted the notebook, not quite sure how to thank her. When he didn’t say anything, she glanced at him briefly. Seeing his dumbfounded expression, she couldn’t help but let out a laugh. He smiled back when her cold façade dropped, and she grabbed a seat to sit opposite of him.

“Look, Tom. You obviously don’t want to let me in on whatever’s troubling you, and that’s okay. Just, take care of yourself. And don’t shut me out completely, yeah?” she said, biting her lip self-consciously. His eyes immediately softened, not having noticed the effect it’d had on his best friend when he hadn’t been around.

“Yeah. Sorry, Teresa. I didn’t mean to. I’m just so – so –“ he stopped, trying to find the right word.

“Obsessed?” she offered, her eyebrows raised. He was stunned for a moment, before he realised, that was exactly what he was.

“Uh – yeah…” He glanced at his backpack where the book was currently lying. Had he really become obsessed? She sighed submittingly, noticing his glance, but smiled.

“Come on, we’ll be late for the next class.” They walked together until they were forced to separate, their classes in two different parts of the school.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” she more asked than stated, the insecure look returning in her eyes. He didn’t like that look. She was usually such a stubborn, brave, and strong girl. This didn’t suit her. He nodded and gave her an encouraging smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

*******

It was nice to sit with Teresa during lunch again. He understood how much he’d missed it when they walked their separate ways again.

He was sitting in English waiting with his fellow students waiting for the teacher to come. When 10 minutes had passed, they were all doing their separate things, no one paying attention even when the secretary walked in. She told them, their teacher had left the school due to sickness, and they would have an additional lesson later in the year but as of now, they were free to leave. Most of the students rushed out of there the minute they were given the opportunity to, but Thomas decided to stay back and study some of the math notes Teresa had so kindly lent him.

Grabbing his bag, he reached in to pull them out, but his hand fell on another book. His fingers scraped the leathery surface, and he looked around cautiously. Seeing he was alone, he dared pull the book out.

_Just one page can’t hurt_.

_6th of August_

_I did it. I’m here. In school._

_At first I thought it would be horrible. It was, actually. With all the people around, I couldn’t concentrate properly. I didn’t know if I could cope. But he helped me. I thought he’d still be pissed, but he wasn’t. He stood in front of the doors when I arrived, and greeted me normally. I don’t know what got over him. It was as if the holiday didn’t happen._

_But I’m thankful, I’m not alone anymore._

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief, glad the best friend had stood up for the author. He knew the feeling too well. The lonely feeling when something that serious had happened. The feeling of not belonging, of being abnormal. The feeling of everyone going by normally, while you’re hurting inside. It wasn’t a nice feeling. So he was glad they at least had someone to talk to.

_7th of August_

_I’ve talked more with him. He says he’s not mad anymore – he just wants to understand. But how could he? No one can. Nevertheless, we’ve agreed that I’ll tell him about everything, one thing at a time. I told him about my leg today. He’ll go with me to speak with Minho._

_After all, I can’t be a part of the track team any longer._

Thomas froze. _They had been part of the track team?_ This was also the first entry in where a person was referred to directly. He suddenly felt a rush of excitement. If he could talk to Minho, then maybe he’d know who the person was? He was bound to know! After all, they had been on the track team!

He suddenly felt a wave of sadness hit him. They had lost their ability to run. How would he feel if he couldn’t do that anymore? He would probably fall into great despair, he reasoned. Hell, even if it happened to a fellow team member, he would still feel sad for their sake. _But_ , he thought, _this **did** happen to a fellow team member. Just not one I know. _

He was too excited about his first proper lead, that he completely forgot about all intentions of studying math, and ran out to the track. He knew Minho would be training around now; the team captain would usually train extra to be ready for their next practice. Luckily, the captain didn’t have any classes as of now, so he was indeed out on the track. Thomas saw him running, and felt uncertain.

How should he approach the matter? _Hey, you know any former members that tried committing suicide during summer? No? Oh well, thanks anyway_.

He couldn’t just blurt it out of nowhere. It was too late to back out, he realised, when Minho waved at him and changed direction so he was running straight towards him.

“Thomas! Doing some extra training?” he asked, while eyeing his regular clothing.

“Um, I – uh, no that’s not –“ he stuttered, the wheels in his brain spinning on high pressure, trying to come up with a proper way of asking about the author.

“Well, spit it out, greenie. What’s on your mind?” Minho continued, his patience running out.

“I was just, uh, wondering – was there, you know, any non-seniors who quit this year?” he knew he’d hit jackpot when Minho’s eyes darkened slightly at his question. His harsh look was intimidating, but Thomas was stubborn.

“I’m just curious, you know, I started later than the others, so I just kind of wanted to know, like, who was a team before and such.” He knew it was a long shot, but he couldn’t really come up with a better excuse. Thomas held his breath as he saw the Asian study him closely. After agonisingly slow seconds, or maybe even minutes, he finally nodded.

“There was one…”

*******

At the end of the day, Thomas nearly skipped home. It had been a very good day. Though Minho wouldn’t reveal anything too personal – not even their name – he had revealed, that a boy had stopped this year without explanation. That had to be him. He had also discovered, the boy was a year older than him, just like Minho. He figured the captain knew more than he lead on, but he supposed that was to be expected. After all, he wouldn’t just go shouting Teresa’s personal life to everyone with a mild interest. If he did, half the school would know by now that she still sleeps with her teddy bear…

Anyway, he was happy-go-lucky over the fact, that he was closer to the mysterious person than ever. He really wanted to meet him. It had been his most uplifting week since his father’s death, and he just couldn’t let that go. There was something about his writing and his art that made him crave for more. He had never felt like this. Like he couldn’t go on without knowing more. Feeling more.

He had a great smile on his face and waved to everyone he walked by, ignoring the strange looks some of them sent him. It was incredible to feel this way. It was something completely new, something that changed him. He wasn’t full of worries anymore, at least he didn’t pay them as much mind as he used to. He wasn’t exhausted all the time and he actually looked _forward_ to some things now. Those things being a small book and the distant dream of meeting the person – the _boy_ – who wrote it.

He skidded to a halt at the thought. _A boy_. Somehow, he was totally fine with it. Whoever this person was, he just wanted to meet them. Speak with them. Watch them draw, while his fingers ran through his hair…

Thomas frowned.

_Wait… What?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuuh, here's another chapter cc:  
> Not really happy with the ending on this one, but at least I got it written!  
> Aaah, I'm so excited for you guys' opinion on this one!  
> Please leave a comment on how I did c:   
> Love you guys!  
> xoxo

Thomas spent the afternoon with Chuck, a twelve-year-old neighbour whose parents always had late meetings on Fridays. Together, they made pizza, throwing flour at each other and using the rolling pins as swords. The two childish boys always had a wonderful time. Thomas enjoyed dining with the smaller boy, listening to him ramble excitedly about a lesson or his hobbies. He planted Chuck in the living room, watching cartoons, while he cleaned the kitchen, which was quite a mess after their battle. When Chuck’s parents came home, it was almost nine and dark outside, and Thomas said his goodbye with a ruffle to the boy’s hair.

Stepping outside, he shivered slightly in the autumn cold, but quickly adjusted, not usually being too affected by the cold temperatures. He was walking in a casual tempo, knowing his mother wasn’t home anyway, so he really had nothing to do. He thought back to the boy who had occupied his mind for so long. How did he look? What colour was his hair? And his eyes? Were they blue like the sky, easy to get lost in and beautifully bright? Were they dark and brown, captivating and warm? His heart pounded quicker, eager to discover the answers. But his hope faltered, as he knew, it was improbable that they would meet. Even if he did, what was he supposed to say? _Hey, I’m the guy who kinda stole your diary and now know all of your darkest secrets. Wanna go have a cup of coffee?_ Yeah, no.

His thoughts were interrupted when his phone played a familiar tune. Seeing Teresa’s picture light the screen he pressed _accept_ and brought it to his ear. However, he pulled it away instantly, when her loud voice sounded.

“Thoma~s,” she yelled cheerfully, dragging the last syllable, loud music erupting in the background. He winced slightly, looking at the clock and wondering how she managed to be affected by alcohol already.

“I’m not picking you up, if that’s what you’re hoping for,” he said dully, having been in the situation plenty of times before. She giggled at his tone, and he couldn’t help but loosen up slightly.

“No~, that’s not it! I want you to join me Tom! Seriously, it’d be good for you!” her tone was more serious now, indicating she wasn’t as intoxicated as he had assumed. He frowned at her suggestion, and she sighed before he could answer.

“I can almost hear you frown. Come on, this’ll do you good, I promise! You’ve been so reserved lately, a night out is just what you need!” she continued.

“Look, Teresa, I appreciate it, I’m just not sure –“

“One hour. Just be here one hour, and I won’t give you a hard time if you leave. Please, just try? I’ll be here the whole time, I promise,” she said, not taking no for an answer. She was worried about him enough as it was, and she knew, he was holding back. He sighed, knowing she’d be dancing around and leaving him to sulk in the corner after 5 minutes.

“Alright. One hour,” he agreed, changing direction towards the party. He knew, because she had mentioned it when they ate lunch, and he had planned on walking her home anyway.

“Yes! Thank you Tom! You’re the best~” she said, her tone going back to being cheerful, and she hung up, texting him the address, making sure he knew where it was. He shook his head at his phone, silently wondering if this would really be worth it.

*******

When he arrived at the party, there were people _everywhere_. It seemed like the whole school was here, even though the house was _enormous_ , it was completely overcrowded. Thomas immediately drew a breath, feeling strangely calm in the otherwise tight situation. He had no problem with people invading his personal space – hell, he was usually the one breaking them anyway – and he somehow loved crowded places. He felt comforted being around people, feeling as though he could hide there. He _knew_ how to be around people; it was so natural for him, and he was for a brief moment reminded about how his life used to be.

Squeezing through masses of people, he made his way inside trying to locate Teresa. He figured she would either be by the giant speakers, dancing in the midst of it all, or by the kitchen, drinking god-knows how much and talking to random strangers. He checked the dance floor first. Not wanting to disturb the happy, sweaty teenagers, he stood on a table nearby, scrutinising the faces. Finding no familiarity, he decided to head towards the kitchen. It smelled a lot like alcohol, and he scrunched his face, realising he hadn’t brought any drinks for himself. In the kitchen, there was a couple making out, a stoned girl and a guy carrying a tray of shots. But no Teresa. _Figures._

With nothing better to do, he decided to get a bit away from the noise, content with just listening to the joyous youngsters rather than joining them. He noticed a kitchen door, and walked out of there, hoping to find a terrace. Luckily, that’s exactly what he found. There was a small table with two chairs facing a small forest. It was strangely quiet out there, though the music and laughter could still be heard, but it was more of a low background noise than something disturbing. Thomas settled in one of the chairs, admiring the view. He closed his eyes and leaned back, wondering if he’d ever have a view like that. He thought of his mother and what she was doing. Had she eaten yet? Or was she too busy on her shift?

“Hey.”

He was startled by the sudden voice, falling backwards on the chair, his back hitting the ground hard. Looking to the source of the sound, he noticed a shadow moving in the darker part of the terrace. He blushed when he realised he hadn’t even checked if someone else was out here, and hoped it wasn’t noticeable in the darkness. The guy who had spoken stepped forward, the light from the windows illuminating his face. He had blonde hair, and brown eyes Thomas couldn’t look away from. An adorable giggle escaped the person’s mouth, reminding Thomas that he was still on the ground. He hurriedly stood up, ignoring the sudden wave of dizziness that came over him. The other guy looked him up and down, and Thomas nervously shifting under his gaze. _Nervous? What’s there to be nervous about?_ He thought, scolding himself and finally escaping the daze he had been in when the other spoke.

“Here to get away from all the fun?” the blond asked, taking a seat in the other chair. He was gazing at the forest, but Thomas had a feeling the blond was seeing something else entirely.

“Yeah. I was dragged here by a friend. You?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone, even though his heart was racing. He pulled the chair up to join the other at the table, but instead of looking at the forest, he observed the blond.

“Same,” he simply said, not turning his head. Thomas knew he’d need to come up with an explanation if he kept looking at him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Instead, he let them wander from the long eyelashes, to the moist lips, down to the prominent apple and to the scrawny collarbones. He had never seen anyone so, so – so _beautiful_ before. Because that’s what he was. Even under the dim light, he could see the gorgeous features adorning his face, the tiny speckles in his deep brown eyes –

Wait. He was looking back. Blinking, he repeatedly opened and closed his mouth in a desperate attempt at finding something to say. The blond smirked, his eyes squinting slightly at the movement.

“Are you going to stare all night, or are you actually capable of talking?” It was then Thomas realised the boy had an accent, which only added to the list of incredible things about this captivating creature.

“Uh, I – no, I can talk,” he finally managed to utter, followed by an awkward cough, as he diverted his eyes. He could feel the other’s calculating eyes on him, but he refused to give in to the temptation of looking again. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, each giving in to their own thoughts. Thomas mainly thought about the blond stranger, not sure how to approach him. It was a rare situation for him; usually, he had no problem talking to strangers, but somehow, his mind was empty.

“So –“ Thomas began, cringing when he felt the blonde’s eyes on him, knowing he had to say something now.

“Which year are you in?” he finally said, deciding to go with the basic introductions. It seemed to work, as the blond didn’t ignore him.

“It’s my last year. Can’t wait to move on from this hellhole,” he responded with a smirk, hinting sarcasm, but his eyes turned darker, making Thomas wonder if he really meant it.

“And you?”

“11th. Still got another after this one.” The blond nodded thoughtfully turning towards the forest once again. Not wanting to fall into silence again, Thomas continued.

“So, where’s this friend of yours?” he asked, slumping in his chair comfortably, his sudden casual tone earning an amused look from the blond.

“He stalked off early, saying he had some presentations to prepare for,” the blond shrugged as if he was used to it, and Thomas thought it probably wasn’t the first time, he had been abandoned at a party.

“Presentations?” he asked curiously, scrunching his nose at the word, causing the blond to snicker.

“Yeah, that’s the boring life of a student council president.” Thomas vaguely remembered a blurry face. He had seen him before, heard that he was a leader character.

“Student council president? Wow, how’d you manage to tame _that_?” He thought back on the guy who was known to practically _live_ in the student library, remembering his authoritarian look in school events. To his glee, he received a chuckle.

“Yeah, Alby’s not always around. But he’s there when it matters,” the blond answered, his look growing distant. Thomas knew better than to inquire about personal matters, so he left it as it was, though his curiosity was hard to contain.

They spent the next half hour discussing best friends, dreadful teachers, and the position of the stars. Really, they just talked about whatever, both feeling strangely content in the other’s presence. Even in such little time, Thomas learned a lot about the blond, and the other way around. He learned, he hated science, found it extremely boring, and Thomas faked a hurt expression, earning a cute laugh. He also learned, that he liked different cultures, and at some point wanted to travel the world. They joked about ignorant people, and made a game out of making stories about the people they could see through the window.

“That one’s drunk. She’s going to fall asleep in a minute.”

“Look, that guy’s gonna hit on that girl.”

“No way, he’s going for the boy she’s trying to score.”

They laughed at the girl’s astonished expression when both guys lost themselves in a heated kiss, and she angrily stormed out.

He also discovered something else. They talked about miserable dates, and Thomas couldn’t help himself.

“So, is there a girlfriend waiting for you somewhere?” he asked, biting his lip.

“No, not really my area,” the blond answered, looking away.

“Oh, so, boyfriend then?” he asked, hating how he sounded so persistent, but he couldn’t help it. The blond looked him over, looking for any sign of disgust. When finding none, he answered.

“Not at the moment, no.” There was a pregnant silence, where Thomas tried not to jump out of his seat in excitement.

“And you?” the blond finally broke the silence. Thomas stared, processing the question for a couple of seconds.

“Same,” he decided on repeating the other’s answer. He saw the blond smirk, and felt a smile spread on his own face.

They continued talking about everything and nothing, but somehow, they had both unconsciously moved slightly closer, neither of them noticing. Thomas loved the way the blonde’s snarky replies matched his own. He was intrigued by the mystery behind every shadow, every distant look, and every mistrusting inspection. There was something about him. Something that felt strangely familiar, and yet so new and exciting. It was like being home, and discovering a secret hideout. It was like talking to your best friend who suddenly showed a brand new side of themselves. It was an incredible feeling.

But it was bound to end at some point. Thomas jumped at the sudden vibration from his pocket, fishing it out and seeing Teresa’s name on the screen. Noticing the time, he realised he had been at the party for two hours, even though it hadn’t felt like it. He glanced at the blond before answering.

“Tom? Are you still at the party?” Teresa’s small, tired voice sounded. He frowned worriedly, wondering what she’d gotten herself into _this_ time.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he answered. The blond was studying him, and he gave him a slight smile.

“Can you walk me home? I’m out front,” she said. Judging by her voice getting more and more quiet, he figured he couldn’t say no, or she’d fall asleep before he’d get her home. He really wanted to stay, though, which was extremely rare for him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the blond again.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be right there.” At his words, the blond immediately dropped his gaze, figuring he had to leave. After a small ‘thanks Tom’ he ended the call and stood to leave. The blond stayed in his seat.

“Sorry, I have to go,” Thomas explained, though he knew the blond had already figured. He simply nodded and offered a small smile, silently saying it was fine, but Thomas didn’t feel like it was. There was nothing he could do about it.

“It was really nice to meet you, um –“ he said hurriedly, but stopped. He froze. _I’ve talked to this guy for **two hours** and I don’t even know his name? How did this happen? _ He turned around to face the blond, feeling incredibly stupid.

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.” The blond blinked a couple of times, before he chuckled, the sound making Thomas’ heart flutter.

“I suppose you’re right. I’m Newt.” He stuck his hand forward initiating a handshake. Thomas couldn’t help but feel the name fit. _Extraordinary._

“I’m Thomas.” He accepted the hand and shook it, lingering at his touch before letting go. Now he _really_ didn’t want to go.

“It’s fine, Tommy, go. I’ll see you around,” Newt said, noticing his hesitant look. Thomas’ heart jumped at the nickname, a smile quickly spreading on his face.

“Yeah, I’ll see you.” With the huge smile, he walked out of the house, finding Teresa sitting at the entrance.

He smiled the whole way home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter on my iPad, so there's bound to be more mistakes than usual... Sorry in advance!  
> Anyhow, I probably won't update for at least a week, since I'm going on holiday.  
> I hope you guys won't forget about me until then *sniff*  
> anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! c:  
> Thanks for all the support so far! All comments are welcome c:  
> xoxo

Thomas lay in his bed, his mind unable to think of anything else than a certain blond. Whenever he closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep, gorgeous brown eyes would appear, and Thomas’ heart did things he didn’t think was appropriate after knowing someone for _two hours._

_I wonder if he got home all right. Was he alone the whole time? Is he thinking about me? I really want to see him again._

The thoughts repeated themselves over and over, until Thomas had enough and finally decided he wouldn’t be able to go to sleep like this. Instead, he turned over on his stomach, and reached for a leather book on his nightstand.

_8th of August_

_Who would’ve thought, school is still boring as ever._

_I had nothing but scientific subjects today.Oh, what joy._

_However, it’s kind of nice to feel bored again. I could get used to this._

Thomas chuckled slightly at the sarcastic tone towards science. His mind jumped to another guy he knew, who shared the opinion. Shaking his head, he focused on the book once again. After all, it was supposed to distract him, not lead back to the gorgeous blond. He smiled at the last sentence, glad the experiment had gone well. He deserved some normalcy.

_9th of August_

_I didn’t go to school today. My aunt didn’t mind, which was surprising. I’ve always had to fight my parents whenever I skipped school, but she’s totally fine with it._

_I forgot how fortunate I am to be living with her._

Thomas frowned. Having been raised in a home with understanding parents, he couldn’t comprehend how the writer’s parents could have let it go this far. He imagined, the guy would’ve had to fight with his parents, when he lived at home. Once again he felt a strange clench of his heart, as though every pain to the writer, happened to him as well. _At least he’s not alone anymore,_ he thought, silently thanking the aunt for not being like her sibling. _I wonder how long he’s been living with her._ Judging from the diary, he had been living there before the ‘incident’. But for how long? How long had he been living under the parents’ influence? How long had been alone? Just thinking about it made rage flare in Thomas, rage he didn’t know he was capable of possessing. As so many times before, he felt a need to hold the writer, assure him, he wouldn’t be alone anymore. But how could he? He was, after all, just a stranger.

The sad thought struck him hard, and he suddenly couldn’t stand holding the diary. Putting it neatly on the nightstand, he flopped himself on his bed, turning away from the book.

At last, he fell into a restless sleep.

*******

Newt woke exceptionally late. Not usually one to get much sleep, he nearly jumped, when he saw it was noon. He sat up slowly, rubbing his neck tiredly, wondering what had happened. _From insomnia to hypersomnia,_ he thought, running a hand over his face. He thought back to the evening before. He didn’t come home that late. He had gone home about 1 am, before then sat on the terrace, talked to this gorgeous brunet…

_Hold on_. He froze. Reaching up to his mouth, he realised, he was smiling. Since when did he smile by himself? _Since you met that cute brunet last night._ He shook his head, trying to wipe the grin off his face.

_This is not happening,_ he thought, walking out his room to get his mind on other things.

*******

Thomas woke up early, his nightmares haunted by the familiar dream. _It’s getting too frequent,_ he thought, remembering how it had been the first few weeks after his father’s death. He rubbed his hands against his face as though he could erase the image clinging to his eyelid whenever he closed his eyes.

Knowing he needed a distraction, he eyed the small book on his nightstand. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching for it.

_10th of August_

_He was there to greet me at school today. I hoped he’d stay with me the whole day, but he was too busy._

_Stupid student council duties. Taking my best friend away._

Thomas instantly frowned, not even bothering to celebrate the fact that the famous he was in fact the best friend he had assumed. He was too focused on the new fact; the best friend was in the student council. His mind jumped to the night before.

‘ _He stalked off early, saying he had some presentations to prepare for.’ ‘_

_That’s the boring life of a student council president.’_

_‘Alby’s not always around,, but he’s there when it matters.’_

_It couldn’t possibly be…_ He shook his head, trying to get the thought out of his head. _This is ridiculous, it could be anyone._ And yet, as he thought more about it, it made more and more sense. How the blond had gazed into his own world for no one but him to see. How he didn’t talk about his family. How his eyes shone with a sadness Thomas couldn’t possibly understand. And yet he did. Because he had read it all. He knew everything.

The timeline fit. The coincidences collided. The heartbeat matched. Thomas drew a breath.

_Could it really be?_

*******

Thomas spent the Saturday with Teresa, finally doing the assignment they shared. It was all Thomas wanted to do to get his mind off the potential exposure of the mysterious writer. Well, they would have worked, if Teresa hadn’t been sober enough to notice he’d spent 2 hours at the party.

“So, Tom. What happened to ‘one hour only’?” she said, moving her face so close to his, he could count every eyelash. With her being so close, she could easily see the blush spreading on his face. Her eyes widened, and she drew a heavy breath, nearly falling back on the bed.

“Who is it? Who did you meet!” she squealed, slapping his shoulders in excitement.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing at the now soar spot, “It’s no one. What’re you talking about?” He pointlessly tried to swat her away, pulling the books back.

“Thomas!” she yelled, throwing the books far away. He cursed her curiosity, inwardly denying his influence. Flopping onto his back, he sighed heavily, closing his eyes in an attempt to shut her out. However, he should’ve known she wasn’t that easily dismissed. She jumped on his stomach, making him huff in surprise, and positioned herself with a knee on each side of his hips, straddling him. To strangers, this would seem strangely intimate, and some had even mistaken them as dating. Their relationship was more sibling-like, and they had no problem with personal space, as they had known each other since they were small.

Thomas avoided her gaze, but she was stubborn. She took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her.

“Tell me,” she whispered demandingly, curiosity shining in her eyes. She took his reluctant sigh as a victory. He took a moment to weigh his words, trying to find the right way of explaining it.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. She gave him a curious look, not quite understanding. _How could she._

“I sort of met someone a couple of days ago,” he began, deciding to start with the beginning. Sensing a longer story, she sat down crosslegged on the bed with an encouraging look.

“It was an accident, really. We just… sort of stumbled upon each other.” He thought back to the day he found the diary, feeling as though it was several weeks ago, when in reality, it was only a few days ago.

“We didn’t get along at first,” he remembered how angered he had been at the writer, how he didn’t understand anything they wrote. “But eventually, as I got to know him better, he grew on me.” He thought back with adoration at the drawings and paintings that had finally opened his eyes. When he had finally realised he was a _person_ with real needs, emotions, and hobbies.

“And… well… I met someone yesterday, who reminds me of him. And… I don’t know.” He sighed, putting his head in his hands, realising he made no sense, not even to himself. Teresa watched him carefully, wanting to help, but not sure how, when she didn’t know the full story.

“This guy you met first… How does he feel?” she asked, watching his expression.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I think he hates me,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

“Why would you think that?” He shifted uncomfortably.

“I, uh, did some things. Pried in his personal business.” He saw her squinting her eyes, but they never turned judgemental. She was trying her hardest to understand, and he wasn’t making much sense. He scratched his head, giving a frustrated grunt.

“The point is, this first guy is somehow related to the second. But he hates me. And, if the guy I met yesterday finds out, he’ll hate me too. D’you know what I mean?” He looked at her with wide, hopeful eyes, and she couldn’t help but soften at the look.

“I think,” she started, brushing some of his stray hair to the side, “that honesty is the first step to trust. Even if it means he’ll get mad at you. Once he realises what a great person you are, I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” She gave him a comforting smile, and he actually felt a little bit better.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, giving a small smile in return. They sat in comfortable silence for a while. The more Thomas thought about it, the more he realised she was right. He would find Newt, and tell him everything! Seeing his now determined look, Teresa giggled slightly.

“Alright lover-boy, lets get some work done”

*******

Thomas sat fidgeting in his chair in class, both eager and dreading for it to end. He had already decided he would come clean to the upperclassman – so why was he so nervous?

_I don’t even know him that well,_ he thought. _I mean, we just met three days ago!_ What wouldn’t he think, when Thomas confessed, that he had his diary? He was a stranger, who he randomly met at a party. They had no relation to each other, at least from Newt’s view. _But I know him_.

When the bell ended his train of thought abruptly, he nearly jumped in his seat. Teresa gave him a thumbs up, knowing his plan. He gave a hesitant smile, but his courage was boosted slightly. Determined, he got out of his chair and headed out. It was lunch break, so of course, he first looked in the cafeteria. He searched for the mop of blond hair, but didn’t find the intended person.

_Well, he doesn’t like crowds, so that was to be assumed._ Walking out, he headed towards the library. It was the ideal place for a quiet lunch. Thomas spotted a dark-skinned boy, buried in books and sheets. Recognising him as the student council president, a wave of nervousness coming over him. He hid behind some bookshelves, being on high alert for the blond. After 5 minutes, and no sign of the blond, he decided, he wasn’t there.

Slightly relieved, but also disappointed, he walked out of there, wondering where he should look next. He walked down the corridor, watching the people he walked past, but with no luck. He was about to give up, when he spotted a door. On it, it read ‘ _Art_ ’. Feeling a new spire of hope, he walked towards it quickly, not letting himself back out.

When he spotted the blond sitting in front of a canvas, butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He gulped, the reality of what he was about to do hitting him hard. Just as he was about to retreat, thinking he couldn’t do it, he accidentally knocked a glass of brushes over. As they scattered across the floor, he saw the blond jump and turn towards the door so fast Thomas was afraid he got whiplash.

Thomas froze in the doorway, not sure what to do. The surprised look on the blond’s face changed into a curious one, as he recognised the brunet.

“Thomas?” he asked disbelievingly, his brows furrowing. Said brunet was flabbergasted. He couldn’t manage to utter a single word, his mouth torn between opening and closing.

“Back to being speechless, are we?” Newt chuckled, recognising the expression as the same he’d had when they first met. Thomas’ face flushed, and he finally decided on entering the room and closing the door behind him. The blond raised his eyebrows, but said nothing to this gesture.

“I, uh –“ _Just say it, Thomas!_

“I was – I just wanted to –“ _Deliver your diary, which I’ve been reading without your consent._

“I –“ Anxiety took over him. _Just spit it out!_ He couldn’t say it. _You promised!_ He closed his eyes. _This is for the best._ He took a deep breath. _He doesn’t even know you._ He bit his lip. _You’re just some stranger._ He hung his head, looking at the floor. _**You’re a coward.**_

Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up instinctively, meeting brown eyes, but quickly adverted his gaze, looking anywhere but at him.

“Tommy, you alright?” Newt asked in a very low voice that did nothing to help Thomas’ nerves. In fact, it only encouraged him to not admitting. He wanted to hear it more. He wanted to hear all of his different voices. Excited, teasing, angry, sleepy. He wanted to know everything. The brunet let a breath of air escape him. Finally, he gathered the courage to meet the other’s eyes.

“Sorry, that was a bit weird,” he smiled cheerfully, knowing all too well how to smile in difficult situations. Newt squinted his eyes, not completely convinced. He hesitantly removed his hand, but still eyed him warily.

“I just –“ _Yes, **say it!**_ Newt looked at him expectantly, waiting patiently.

“I just wondered if you wanted to grab some coffee some time?” _Stupid. Stupid, stupid, **stupid**. To Newt, you only just met, and now you’re asking him out? And in such a weird situation? What’s wrong with you! _ Thomas nearly cringed at his own words, cursing his own awkwardness. He was too caught up in scolding himself to notice the shocked look on the blond’s face.

When he realised the blond hadn’t answered, he felt even more stupid. He was about to apologise for the sudden question, looking up at the other. But when he did, he was met with an incredible sight. Newt was blushing. He blinked a couple of times, trying to take in the sight in front of him. Thomas couldn’t help the smile spreading on his face, finding the sight incredibly adorable.

Newt realised he was being watched, and his face flushed even more as he looked away. He mumbled something incoherently, and Thomas leant closer, asking him to repeat it. The blond bit his lip nervously, and Thomas couldn’t resist from staring at his lips.

“Sure,” he said, turning his head towards the brunet, shaking him out of the thoughts of how it would feel to run his thumb across the moist lips… Thomas jolted, his eyes quickly going to the other’s. He squinted his eyes slightly, wondering if it was a joke, but Newt kept eye contact proving his sincerity. Thomas coughed awkwardly, not having expected a serious answer, much less an acceptation.

“Uh,” he uttered, wracking his brain for something to say. Newt smirked, enjoying his turn for observing the flushed brunet. He turned his back to him, fiddling with a drawer and scribbling something on a paper. Thomas stood still the whole time, not sure what to do with himself. He was handed a piece of paper with a few numbers on it, and his breath hitched when he recognised the messy handwriting. Mistaking the hitch for surprise, the blond’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“I don’t have any club practise, so just text me whenever.” Newt gave him a final (amazing) smile, starting to pack his bag. He only realised, he was late, when the bell rang, and Newt walked out of the room. Thomas watched him walk away, still standing with the piece of paper. Just before he turned a corner, the blond looked back, seeing Thomas watching him. He almost looked away, but the blond sent him another smirk, and he suddenly didn’t feel embarrassed. Instead, he returned the smile, and walked towards his own class when the boy was out of sight.

He had a date. He had a _date_.

_I’m so dead._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from my holiday!! yay!!  
> I hope you guys haven't forgotten me yet... . only time will show  
> I'm really sorry this chapter is so short, but I wanted to give you guys something after all this time!  
> I lack inspiration *sigh*  
> Also, school is starting soon, so I probably won't be able to update as regularly as I did before, but I'll do my best!  
> Anyway, here is a short chapter! I hope you guys enjoy ! c:  
> Leave comments to feed my starving soul c:  
> xoxo

Thomas lay in his bed staring at the small paper with the familiar handwriting.

_What should I do?_ _I can’t do this!_ Frustrated, he threw his arm over his face, shielding his eyes. He brought a hand to his chest, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heart. The guilty feeling was destroying him from the inside, and he knew he had to confess. He couldn’t go on like this. The guy didn’t deserve it. _I don’t deserve him,_ he thought, his heart clenching painfully and his throat constricting.

With a heavy sigh, he threw himself on his side staring at the scribbled numbers. Taking a deep breath to gather the courage, he picked up his phone, and dialled the number.

*******

The only sound was that of a pencil frantically scrabbling on a piece of paper. The blond locks covered the boy’s face, shielding him from the outside world, protecting him.

_Why did I do that? What was I thinking?_ Newt bit his bottom lip in frustration, trying to focus on the drawing in front of him. It was supposed to be a distraction, but somehow, his mind wandered off to the brunet who had _asked him out on a date_.

_No, not a date. He didn’t say that. You just assumed,_ he scolded himself, his hand still trembling slightly from their encounter. He wasn’t used to socialising with anyone else but Alby and Sonya. Never had he been so pleased with the years of training with putting on a face. And yet, he had found it hadn’t been as difficult as he had presumed. It was strangely easy to be himself around the brunet. Maybe it was because Thomas had seemed so nervous, he just instantly wanted him to feel more at ease. Or maybe it was because he reminded him of someone he aspired to be.

Maybe it was the late night talk at the party, hearing his tired, husky voice, his deep laughter, his occasional snort, and the way his eyes lit up when he smiled.

Shaking his head, he realised the distraction was not working. _This isn’t me. I don’t meet cute people. I don’t hook up. I don’t do dates._

At that point, he really missed his diary. Obviously, drawing didn’t help him vent. They always ended out picturing similar brown eyes that did nothing to take his mind off things.

Slumping in his chair, he stared at the ceiling, trying to get his thoughts sorted. _I’ll have to cancel._ That caused a snort. _If he’ll even text._

_Of course he won’t. You probably scared him off already. Who would want to date **you**?_

A sudden ringtone made him jump in the chair, nearly falling off in the progress. He reached for his phone to see an unknown number, and debated whether to answer. No one usually called him, not even his parents. Normally, he texted, finding it much easier. His inward debate ended, when he accidentally pressed ‘accept’. With a racing heart, he brought the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he asked hesitantly, hoping he didn’t sound as stupid as he felt.

“Newt?” answered a voice in a male voice, and said blond’s heart nearly stopped.

“Tommy? Uh, I mean, Thomas?” he scolded himself for the instant nickname, thinking it was childish. He coughed halfway through the sentence, trying to get rid of the surprise at hearing the brunet’s voice. He felt his face warm in embarrassment, grateful that the other couldn’t see him.

Thomas chuckled on the other end of the phone, not doing anything to help Newt’s pounding heart.

“It’s fine, you can call me Tommy. I don’t mind.” The cheery voice sounded sincere, making Newt wonder for the umpteenth time how real this guy was.

“I was just calling to ask about that coffee?” he asked, his tone hesitant. Newt had to take a few seconds processing the words, earlier being completely sure that it had been some strange joke. At his lack of response, the brunet started to ramble.

“I mean, not that you have to, obviously, it’s kind of strange isn’t it? You don’t even know me that well, gosh, I’m sorry, I sound so stupid, um, just forget I, uh –“ he stopped, and Newt could just imagine the other mentally face palming. The thought made him chuckle, a sound that was becoming more and more common.

“I do want to,” he finally found the courage to say, finding it incredibly hard to not believe the other’s nervous rambling. _You’ll probably regret it,_ a small voice in his head said, but he ignored it the best he could. He was rewarded with a relieved sigh from the other end of the line.

“Really? Oh, uh, that’s awesome! I mean – uh, does Wednesday at four work for you? I got track practice, but I’m probably finished by then.”

Newt’s heart clenched at the mention of the track team. _I could’ve still been on it if it hadn’t been for…_ He shook his head. _I’m not going to dwell on that._

Thomas noticed his quietness, realising his mistake. He was about to say something, when Newt beat him to it.

“Sure, sounds good. Meet you at the Glade?” he asked, knowing the local coffee shop was closest to the school, and probably more convenient for the other.

“Yeah,” Thomas breathed relieved, not really caring where they met.

“I’ll see you Wednesday then,” Newt said, his voice sincerely happy for the first time in a long while.

“See you then, Newt.”

They hung up, both feeling a combination of excited and scared. Newt made his way to the kitchen to grab a bite, and sat there until his aunt came home.

It wasn’t until she asked what had happened, that he realised he had been smiling the whole time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The date is finally here!!!! uwu  
> Let me know what you guys think! c:  
> You're all appreciated, lovelies ;3;  
> xoxo

Wednesday. It was Wednesday. Thomas hadn’t been able to sleep at all that night, too excited, but also too anxious, thinking about the day. He had to do it. Today. As soon as he got there. Okay, maybe not _as soon_ as he got there, he could say hi first and order, and maybe just small talk… _Getting off track, Thomas!_

In track practice, he had been quicker than ever, the excitement giving him adrenaline. He was restless the whole day, unable to sit still. In a moment of weakness, he had thought of going through the diary to try to find some useful facts about the blond. Then he had nearly hit himself for the stupid thought and forced himself to stay far away from the black book in his backpack.

And now he was running on the pavement, shouting apologies to people he passed by or accidentally ran into. Because of his energy, Minho had made him run a few more laps to make up for last week, when he went home early. So, he was late. He ran as quickly as he could, not caring if his shirt got sweaty, knowing the blond had a habit of getting anxious.

_I hope he hasn’t left yet._ Glancing at his phone, he saw he was 20 minutes late. _Please be there, please be there…_

*******

Newt’s coffee had gone lukewarm, and his hand was tapping anxiously on his leg.

_He’s not coming,_ a small voice in the back of his head said. He growled under his breath, trying to ignore the voice. But as time ticked on, it got louder.

_Of course it was a joke._

_Who’d want to go on a date with you?_

_He’s probably here with his friends, laughing at you._

Newt ducked his head, scrutinising every face in the shop for the brunet. When he didn’t find him in with a group of friends, quietly laughing and pointing fingers, he relaxed slightly. His gaze fell on the door when it chimed, indicating a new costumer had entered. A whole new anxiety rose in him.

It was Thomas. Out of breath, sweating, and yet beaming Thomas. The sight instantly made Newt’s throat go dry. Luckily, he had a few seconds while Thomas made his way to their table and catching his breath. His eyes shone brightly, not helping Newt’s case of wordlessness.

“Newt!” the brunet exclaimed, taking a deep breath.

“I'm so sorry, I'm late! Minho that bastard made me run extra on today of all days.” He slumped dramatically in his chair, still breathing heavily. Despite his previous anxiety, Newt couldn't help but smile slightly. He reached for his cup to hide his grin, momentarily forgetting that it had gone cold. He made a face at the coffee, one that Thomas noticed.

“Sorry, it must've been annoying to wait,,” he said, self-consciously rubbing his neck. Newt shook his head, knowing he'd do it all over again if he had to. Even with his anxiety.

“Don't worry Tommy. You're here now, that's all that matters.” The nickname rolled off his lips automatically, but it seemed the brunet didn't mind it. On the contrary, he seemed to beam even more at the name. _That's stupid. Like he'd ever like something **you** did. _He shook his head. _Not today. Today I'll enjoy myself. Today I'll be a normal high-schooler._

Thomas was looking at him as though he could see the battle going on inside him. It was rather unnerving. As if sensing his discomfort, Thomas lowered his gaze. Newt frowned. _Is he a mind reader?_ Before he could even scold himself for the childish thought, Thomas looked up at him with his usual smile. _Usual? Oh please, you don't even know him!_

“I'll go order. What're you drinking?” He stood up, fiddling with his pocket, trying to find his wallet.

“Uhm, just coffee.” Newt fiddled with his own pocket.

“No, don't. I'll pay. As an apology. Besides, how can I let my date pay for his own drinks?” Thomas winked at the blond, surprising him. His face flushed, which only encouraged the now smirking brunet.

_God, can you be more embarrassing?_ When Thomas turned his back, Newt covered his face with his hands. _Why did I do this? This isn't me._

_I should just go home. I could do it right now. He isn't looking. I could just run out, slip behind his back. Or I could hide in the restrooms, wait until he leaves._

And yet, he found he was frozen on the spot, right until Thomas returned with a hot cup of coffee. He gave a small sound of approval, sipping the warm coffee. Too delighted by the warm liquid in his throat, he failed to notice the adoring look the brunet gave him. When he looked up, Thomas looked at the table, feigning innocence.

“So,” the brunet said, breaking the comfortable silence that had built. His brown eyes gazed into his own, warm and comforting, something Newt wasn't, and probably never would get, used to seeing directed towards him. “How was your day?”

The question was so simple. Oh so simple. But however simple, it meant so much. When he had agreed to go on a date, he had expected to be bombarded with questions of his interests, favourite movies and music. Not this. Not this genuine interest in his day, as if his life was important, as if it mattered. With the brilliant smile added to it, it all just seemed too good to be real.

“Uh,” he uttered, cursing himself once again for his idiocy. The brunet, however, didn't seem to be phased by his slow answer, and instead waited patiently. _Is this guy even real?_ Finally recovering from his shock, he shrugged.

“Not much. The same routine as everyday, I suppose,” he offered a small smile, remembering that it wasn't _completely_ the usual routine. The brunet raised his eyebrow, and Newt thought for a horrifying moment that he had said something wrong. But then he smiled.

“Does that mean I'm part of your new routine?” he asked cheekily, his eyes glinting. Newt did everything he could to stop the blush spreading. With no luck.

“And you?” He asked, trying to pass the attention on.

“Oh, the same usual. Except I got a date with a cute blond.”

“Oh, well, you should be on your way then, shouldn't you?” The surprised look on the brunet’s face made his lips twitch upwards.

Then they laughed. Oh, how good it felt to laugh. How long has it been? Too long, that's for sure. Of course, the voices in his head didn't stop. They were still there, nagging him, telling him he didn't deserve this small flake of happiness. But somehow, he managed to ignore them.

With Thomas there, it all seemed easier.

*******

Time passed by quickly with the two boys talking like old friends. That is, if old friends sent each other longing looks, touches lingering, teasing smiles and uncontrollable blushes.

They could’ve probably sat there all day, for all they cared, and if Thomas hadn’t gotten a text, he probably wouldn’t have minded either. However, the text did come, and when he checked his phone he cursed, causing Newt to raise an amused eyebrow.

“Shit! I’m so sorry Newt, but I’ve got to go,” he said, standing up quickly but pausing, looking at the blond.

“Oh,” he uttered quietly, strangely disappointed. What was wrong with him? He _liked_ being alone. He was _used_ to being alone. He was _supposed_ to be alone. And yet there he was, feeling sad that this strange guy who he’d met three times and had deep conversations with twice was leaving? His life sure had taken a strange turn.

“Where do you live?” The question brought him out of his thoughts. Unsure of the question, Newt frowned.

“Just down Whitebrook road. Why?”

“That’s by the park, isn’t it?” He asked, ignoring the other’s question.

“Yeah?”

“Right, let’s go then!” Thomas put on his coat and waited for the blond, who finally realised what was going on.

“Wai- you don’t have to –“ he was cut off by Thomas, waving the words away.

“It’s fine, I’m going that direction anyway. Now, are you coming or not?” he smiled and turned his back, pretending to walk away, but anyone could see he wasn’t walking near a normal pace. Newt huffed. _He’s such a dork._

But he followed anyway.

*******

Outside, the autumn air was refreshing, and Newt finally felt the consequences of sitting inside the rather filled shop for a long while. He took a deep breath of the cold air, and felt the wind cooling his face. He turned to follow Thomas, only to realise that he’d been staring at him. Instead of looking away, he smiled adoringly, making Newt cough to cover his embarrassment.

“Let’s go then,” he said, walking in front of Thomas but slowing down to let him catch up. They continued their light-hearted talk on the way, Thomas mostly speaking. Not that Newt minded. He liked hearing about his life, how he took care of his mother, and how annoying his best friend could be. He listened to him talk about his favourite video games, his too kind-hearted boss, and how his mother always scolded him for dirtying the carpet when he came back from work. The image of Thomas in a dirty shirt, sweat beads on his forehead, and that ridiculous smile made the warmth rise to his face. He shyly tried to hide his face, but _of course_ Thomas discovered and just had to smile that beautiful smile at him, not really helping his case at all.

The wind was rather harsh, and Newt subconsciously tried to bury himself in his coat, shivering slightly. Then he felt a tug at his neck before a rough material helped warming him. Curiously, he looked at the blue scarf now around his neck and then up to brown eyes. He was about to protest that he was fine, but Thomas shrugged it off, saying he was half Viking anyway. That caused the blond to laugh, and the brunet smiled victoriously.

When his apartment came into view, it was much too soon.

They stopped outside the entrance, Newt not quite sure what to say. _How do dates usually end? What do you do?_ For the first time, his lack of experience got to him, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Luckily, Thomas took the lead.

“I’ll see you later then,” he said simply, not moving away from his spot. Newt looked up at him, the words stuck in his throat as his anxiety finally caught up to him. Thomas simply smiled – he _really_ had to stop doing that – and leaned in.

Oh. _Oh._ That’s what people did, wasn’t it? Very unsure of himself, he hesitantly closed his eyes, knowing this was the end, this was where he’d mess it all up and Thomas wouldn’t want to see him ever again. But then he felt a pair of very soft lips on his cheek, and he almost didn’t stop the involuntary sigh from escaping his lips. Opening his eyes again, he saw that beautiful smile one last time before Thomas took off, looking back and waving goodbye.

Newt didn’t move out of his spot. _What just happened?_ The spot where the brunet’s lips had touched his cheek was burning, but not painfully. _Did he do that because he knew I’m inexperienced? Did he really want to kiss me?_ Finally, he managed to turn around a heavy disappointment weighing on his chest. He froze.

_Did I want him to?_

*******

Thomas nearly skipped all the way home, his excitement too great to be hidden. He hummed while making dinner, and his mother kept sending him strange looks. At one point, she even asked who he was and what he’d done to her son, and as a reply he had merely grinned at her, causing her to smile in return.

It had been such a wonderful day. Better than he’d expected. Much better. How could anyone make him feel such at ease with himself? It was a mystery. A mystery he’d spend his whole life figuring out if he was allowed to.

Only when he got to his room and pulled out his homework did his mood change. And rather drastically.

The book. He hadn’t given it to him. He threw the damn thing as far away as possible.

It was making everything more complicated.

He just wanted to move on, and be happy. Was that really too much to ask?

Apparently it was.

He refused to give in to the guilt. But slowly, it came sneaking up on him, stealing his thoughts, corrupting him. He couldn’t stop glancing at it in the corner, lying perfectly still. It was funny how such a small thing could have such a huge impact on his life. He walked to it, standing tall and yet feeling like the smallest person in the world. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Newt would hate him.

He picked it up.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter seemed longer when I wrote it... so sorry for another short chapter, I really thought it was longer :c  
> I would write more, but it's kind of late over here, so I should get to bed...  
> The good news is: I finally got some inspiration! Yay! So now the chapters might actually be worth reading again cx  
> Anyway, thank you so much for all the support, it really means a lot and encourages me when I see you guys' responses!  
> You're all amazing!   
> xoxo

Thomas had always been a curious child. He had always run off to strange locations, exploring the neighbourhood on his own, only satisfied when he knew every corner as the back of his hand. His mother often scolded him for running off, but his father would only shake his head and tell her to _leave the boy be._ So you must understand, it’s in his nature to do things others wouldn’t. Such as reading the diary of someone else.

_11 th of August_

_I just realised, it's been a while since my parents called. I guess they've given up on me._

_At last they leave me alone. This is better._

The bitterness was easily conveyed, and Thomas growled deep in his throat. Thomas was normally a very forgiving person, trying his hardest to look for the best in people, but he couldn’t for the best of him understand Newt’s parents. How could any parent treat their child like that? Like a possession to put on for show and brag about at fancy dinner parties while the children kept quiet.

_Wow, where did that come from?_ He shook his head, trying to get the judgemental thoughts out of his head. _Maybe I’ll understand them when I meet them…_ He froze. **_When_** _I meet them? Way to get ahead of yourself._ They had only gone on one date, and from Newt’s point of view, they were just getting to know each other. But Thomas was on another level. He _knew_ Newt. He knew secrets only his best friend and family knew.

And yet there was so much he didn’t know. What riled him up. How he sounded when he was tired. How he looked when he was out of breath from laughing too much. If he slept quietly or snored adorably. What his favourite subject was. When his birthday was. How he looked after a shower, how his morning hair looked, if those lips were as soft as they looked…

Thomas groaned and hid his face in his hands. _I’m so doomed._

He put the book away and tried to fall asleep.

With no luck.

The blond was stuck in his mind, and he wasn’t exactly keen on getting him out. He thought about their date. How it had all gone so smoothly. Just like when they had first met. He felt such at ease talking to Newt, and he had a feeling the blond felt the same. What had started out as a curious investigation was now a completely sincere infatuation. It’s funny how life can turn around so quickly.

_But Newt won’t know that. He’ll think you did it all just to get inside his head. He’ll think it’s all an act._ The thought nauseated him. How could he ever tell him? He had to, he knew he did. The guilt was already eating him, and at some point, he would become an empty shell. But how? If Newt found out, he’d push him far away and never let him get close again. So how could he tell him without losing him?

It was too much. It was all too much. He didn’t know. The usually clever boy was completely empty of solutions. The boy who won all those chess games because of his ability to plan ahead, had no idea what to do. He was in check, but he couldn’t find a way out.

*******

Newt had a very hard time focusing in class. Which wasn’t irregular, since he usually just scribbled on his notebooks while listening. But now, he really couldn’t focus. He was too caught up in his own head, his mind on the extraordinary happening yesterday. His fingers grazed his cheek lightly, the same spot soft lips – so incredibly soft, like, how did they even become that soft? – had caressed him hours ago. A small smile played on his lips as the memory played over and over.

The abrupt sound of the bell interrupted his train of thought, and he blushed madly hoping no one had noticed his absent state. He hung his head while packing his bag, heading towards the art room. He was hoping he could get the brunet out of his mind in the creative aura that the art room provided.

He dumped his bag and went to pull a canvas from behind the closet in the room. He wasn’t comfortable with it lying around, even if the students didn’t know he’d made it. He couldn’t let them get inside his head like that. It was too early.

He sat in his favourite spot, taking supplies with him. The brush in his hand mixed the colours. Brown. A little bit of white. _Light brown eyes, staring into his own._ He slowly brought his hand closer to the canvas. _He slowly leaned in, only a hair’s breadth away._ He stopped his hand, just before the brush touched the canvas. _He hesitated just for a second, before gathering the courage to kiss him. Warm lips on his own. A moan in the back of his throat, only encouraging him further. Hands, suddenly busy._

A clattering sound disrupted him. He became aware of his surroundings, his face heating with embarrassment. _What am I thinking? I'm getting way ahead of myself._ He touched his lips gingerly, almost able to feel the phantom pressure.

He was grateful he didn't get to linger more on the thought as a knock on the door got his attention. In a brief moment he was hoping to find a certain brunet in the doorway. Of course it wasn't him. But the person still surprised him.

“Alby?” Newt barely remembered to cover his canvas before walking closer to his best friend who simply nodded in response.

“I thought I'd come see how you were doing,” he said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Newt frowned. Why was he worried? Had he done anything particular worrying?

“I'm good,” he said, trying to think of anything he'd done leading up to this moment. When his thoughts got to yesterday, he turned away hoping Alby didn't notice s flushed face.

“That's the thing,” Alby’s voice made the blond look at him again. “All day you've been… Strange. Like you're in your own world. And you're – God, Newt, are you blushing?”

Newt coughed awkwardly, trying to wrack his brain for why he would be blushing, anything not involving a handsome brunet.

“Newt? What's going on? You know you can tell me, right?” He hadn't noticed how close Alby had gotten, and he looked up to stand face to face with him.

“Uh,” Newt uttered, not sure what to say, squirming uncomfortably. Of course, Alby noticed.

“Newt,” he said sternly.

“Alright fine. It’s not as bad as you think, okay? It’s actually… bloody amazing,” he chuckled, smiling a little at the memory. When he looked up at Alby again, his eyebrows were raised, a slightly amused expression on his face.

“Oh, shut up,” Newt hissed, cursing himself for the smile not leaving his lips.

“So? Are you gonna tell me, or do I have to force you?”

Newt hesitated. It wasn’t that Alby would find it strange. Quite the contrary, he would probably say it was good for him. It was that he wanted him for himself. He had found someone, who didn’t know anything about his past difficulties, and he liked it that way. He felt normal around him. If he told Alby, then his two worlds would collide and something was _bound_ to go wrong. But Alby was looking at him expectantly. Alby, who had been there every step of the way, even when everything went upside down. He couldn’t lie to him.

“I… met someone,” he finally said, rubbing his neck. Alby remained quiet, probably waiting for an elaboration. When it didn’t come, he didn’t push.

“Well… I’m happy for you. That’s good. I’m glad you’re getting out there,” Alby said with a smile, putting his hand on his shoulder. “But if she ever hurts you, just say the word, I’ll get her out of here in the blink of an eye.” Newt fidgeted with the seam of his shirt, biting his lip.

“Him,” he corrected quietly, avoiding his gaze. There was a few seconds of silence, where Newt nearly puked from the tension. Then Alby clapped him on the shoulder, making him look up at him.

“If _he_ ever hurt you, don’t hesitate to tell me,” Alby corrected, no resentment in his tone which made the blond nearly sag in relief. With another pat on the shoulder, Alby turned around to leave.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone to your artsy stuff. If you can get anything done these times.”

Newt tried to fight the blush creeping up at him once again.

With no luck.

*******

“Thomas? Thomas!” Said brunet jolted upright from his lying position on the bed. He really had to start paying attention. This was getting too frequent. His head snapped to the direction of the voice, seeing Teresa slapping her book on the table.

“Right. That’s it.” She stood up from his desk and settled herself on his bed, sitting cross-legged next to him, staring intently at him.

“What?” Thomas asked, fixating under her stern gaze. She sighed irritatingly.

“Tell me what’s going on, Tom. Lately, you’re always like this, staring into nothing, not paying attention. Let me in,” her voice turned quiet at the end. It sounded so small, so insecure. Thomas hated it.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” She was too quiet. This wasn’t Teresa. Teresa was strong, stubborn, cheerful. Not like this. This was his fault. He sighed. _I should tell her._

“You know the two guys I told you about?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! A chapter that's not posted at midnight! What's going on? I'll tell you what: School's starting this week, so I have to change my sleeping schedule *sigh*. I really don't want to :(  
> Anyhow, I'm still not sure how much I'll be able to update with school starting and stuff, but I'll try my best!  
> Here's another chapter for you guys, and can I just say WOW! The response on my last chapter was soooo amazing, I nearly cried! You guys are way too kind! Thank you so much to everyone who's commented, even if I didn't answer, I still appreciate it so so much! Thank you!!!!!!!!!  
> Please feel free to leave a comment on this chapter as well c:  
> xoxo

“So, what you’re saying is, you didn’t really meet this first guy, you just read his personal notes. Then you met this second attractive guy _who turned out to be_ the first guy, and now you’re pretty much in love with him, right?”

Thomas’ eyes widened at her, shocked she’d understood in the first try. Well. Almost anyway.

“I’m not, I mean, I’ve only met him two times so I’m not _in love_ , I just really like him…” She stopped him with a wave of her hand, huffing at his response.

“Oh please. You’re completely infatuated with this guy. This is the first proper conversation we’ve had in _a week_. You’ve been in your own world of invading people’s privacy and falling in love with the victim.” Thomas looked down at his lap. It was true. He had pretty much invaded Newt’s privacy. There was no way he could forgive him. Teresa’s eyes softened at the broken look, immediately regretting her words.

“Tom,” she said, getting his attention. “Why did you read it? As soon as you found out it was a diary, why did you keep it?”

He bit his lip, hesitating. He knew she would scold him. But it had been such a relief talking to her.

“Well… He, uh… It’s sort of a recovery diary.” Seeing the confused look on her face, he continued in a small voice. “It was meant as a coping method after he tried to kill himself.” Though his voice was quiet, he could tell by the gasp that she had heard him. He looked away again, not wanting to see her pitiful eyes.

“Tom,” she simply said, scooting closer to him and laying a hand on his shoulder. “Is this about –“

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. They both knew what they were talking about when he nodded. Teresa put her arms around him, pulling him close in a hug.

“Tom,” she sighed, running her fingers through his hair. He should feel like a baby, but he realised, this was what he needed. “You know they’re not the same person, right? It won’t help you.”

“I know,” he sighed, burying his face in her shoulder. “It’s just, I had to do it. I had to know why.”

Teresa hummed, showing she understood. A heavy weight was lifted off his heart, and Thomas wondered why he hadn’t talked to Teresa sooner. After all, she was his best friend. He should’ve known she would only try to help him. She would understand. They sat quietly for a while, Thomas enjoying the comfort he had been craving for so long. But his problems weren’t all solved.

“So now you’re feeling bad for reading the diary. But you also really like this guy, and you’re afraid he’ll get hurt.” Thomas nodded, the guilt creeping back. He felt more than heard her sigh, his whole body being lifted when she inhaled deeply.

“After all he knows, you’ve only met twice. You’re still a stranger to him,” she paused, waiting for agreement, which he gave with a hum. “But you know how he thinks. You practically _know_ him.” She cursed, the difficult situation getting to her, and Thomas couldn’t help but smile at her frustration. She was quiet for a while, thinking it all through, going through all possibilities of what could happen. But in the end, she agreed with the honest side of Thomas.

“You should tell him.” Thomas closed his eyes. Hearing it out loud only confirmed it further to be the right decision. He hated himself for agreeing. Why wasn’t he more deceitful?

“I know,” he responded softly.

*******

Thomas walked down the hallway, fingers itching at his sides. He had decided. He’d tell Newt. No backing out this time. That’s why he was making his way towards the art room in his lunch break. He dragged his feet on the stone floor, trying to drag the time, but eventually he saw the door stating _Art_ loud and clearly. Standing in front of it, he took a deep breath. _Maybe he’s not even here,_ he thought with a childish hope. Slowly, he opened the door, knowing he’d startle the boy if he was in there. For the first time, Thomas wasn’t excited to see the mop of blond hair behind a large canvas. He gulped loudly and then cringed, hoping the other hadn’t heard. Closing the door, the blond finally shifted his attention to the tall brunet.

Newt flashed him a beautiful smile that Thomas returned, hoping it didn’t show how nervous he was. The blond covered the canvas before walking closer to the brunet, who still hadn’t moved away from the door. He forced himself to step closer but was still within reach of the door, so he could bolt out of there.

“Hey Tommy,” the blond greeted, seemingly not noticing Thomas’ wrecked state.

“Hi Newt. I hope I didn’t, uh, inconvenience you,” he mumbled, gesturing to the canvas and hoping the blond would say ‘ _yes in fact you did, could you get out please?’._ But with Thomas’ luck, of course he didn’t.

“Not at all. What brings you here?” he asked curiously, cocking his head to the side, which only made him look even more handsome, not really helping on Thomas’ nerves. _Is he doing this on purpose? Does he already know? Maybe this is his punishment. Torment by cuteness._

“Uh,” Thomas coughed, licking his dry lips. If he hadn’t been so nervous, he might’ve noticed how Newt’s eyes flicked to his lips at the gesture. “I, uh, just wanted to know if you, uh, wanted to, y’know, meet up sometime, maybe.” Thomas closed his eyes. _That was painfully stupid to listen to. Good job. You’re doing a great job ridiculing yourself, you don’t even need the diary for that._ Tcoo caught up in his own thoughts, he nearly missed hearing the answer.

“Sure.” Hcis eyes snapped open to look at the boy in front of him. _Really? Even after that?_ He couldn’t help smiling, even if he knew what he’d have to do once they would meet up.

“Good, uhm. Are you free tomorrow maybe?” _Or maybe next week? Next month? In a year? In the future when we’ve been together for so long you’ll just laugh at my stupidity?_

“Actually, I have to clean the apartment with my aunt tomorrow.” Thomas inwardly cheered. Newt stared at the brunet, frowning. Why wasn’t he commenting on the fact that he was living with his aunt? He shrugged it off, remembering the brunet had mentioned living alone with his mother.

“But I’m free today,” he offered, biting his lip to prevent the hopeful smile. Thomas froze. _Uh oh._ Then he’d have to do it. _Today_. He wasn’t ready for that. But he had to. He couldn’t say no. Not when Newt looked at him with wide eyes, having _initiated_ the date. This was probably a huge deal for him. He couldn’t let him down. So he forced himself to smile at the older boy, hoping it came of as sincere.

“Okay. I’ll see you after school then?” The relief in the blond’s eyes was enough proof that this had been the right call.

“See you then Tommy,” Newt said, turning around and walking towards his bag to hide his grin. As if on cue, the bell rang, and the two made their ways towards their next class.

Newt trying to suppress his wide, triumphant smile. Thomas trying to breathe properly.

*******

When the bell rang for the last time, Thomas walked painfully slow towards the entrance. He felt as if he was walking towards his execution. Which he probably was. He had called to let Chuck know, that he’d be a bit late, knowing the younger could handle himself until dinner. He probably wouldn’t be _that_ late anyway. Teresa shot him a sympathising look and gave him a pat on the bag before walking out of the school. Of course he’d told her about the date (The goodbye? The end?) and she’d tried to cheer him up by offering to take care of Chuck so he didn’t have to worry about that. It would’ve gone fine, the two knew each other quite well, both being important friends to Thomas, but he only saw the boy once or twice a week, so he didn’t want to bail on him.

The wind was eerily quiet when he stepped outside. Normally it was quite windy in the autumn, but not this day. _Great. Everything’s against me._

He spotted the blond sitting on a bench not far away, scribbling in a notebook. _Is that his new diary? Maybe he doesn’t really need the old one?_ A strange hope fluttered in Thomas and he gathered the courage to approach the blond.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Newt quickly closed his sketchbook. It was sort of a replacement for his journal, but not really. He just drew. Which, to be honest, was much more satisfying than writing about everything that happened. But also more risky, as he still didn’t feel comfortable with people looking at his art. He turned to see the person he’d been waiting for wearing a calmer expression than when they met earlier that day.

Newt stood up to greet him, packing the book far away in his bag.

“So, where to?” he asked, meeting the brunet’s gorgeous brown eyes. _I wouldn’t mind losing myself in those,_ he thought absentmindedly. It was as though his voice triggered the earlier nervousness as he noticed Thomas shift on his feet. _Since when did I notice how he looks when he’s nervous?_ Shaking the thought away, he tried not to notice how the other bit his lip.

“I thought we could go for a walk, if that’s okay with you,” he said, distractedly eyeing the blond’s left leg, but quickly regaining himself. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Sure, lead the way.”

*******

Okay. This was it. He had to do it now.

The two of them were walking in a park, talking about everything and nothing and generally just enjoying themselves and each other, just like they had done on their date. Nothing seemed to be wrong. And Thomas was having a really hard time gathering the courage to destroy that.

“Even if she often works late, Sonya’s always there for me. She’s kind of like an older sister, really,” Newt said. With Thomas being the usual one to talk, it was strange how Newt didn’t find it weird to talk. He had been acting strange, but they had quickly gotten off to talk normally, the current topic being family. Though Newt didn’t usually talk much about his, he figured, having already spilled that he lived with his aunt, it wouldn’t really hurt to talk about it. Thomas didn’t seem to mind, in fact he was listening quite intently. It was a bit strange how he was both a good talker _and_ a good listener. Guess Newt had hit the jackpot with this one.

“She’s always so protective in her own way. It took me a while to adjust to her, coming from my parents,” he laughed humourlessly, thinking on his life in England, but not elaborating. To his surprise, he heard a snarl from his left where Thomas walked, and saw a scowl on his face. Newt raised his eyebrow. Had he said something before about his parents? No, he didn’t think he had. Then how could Thomas so accurately imitate his own feelings towards them just by mentioning them? Deciding it was probably nothing, he shrugged it off.

They had been walking quite a while, something Newt wasn’t yet used to, so his leg was bound to hurt at some point. He strained himself to walk normally, cursing himself for his bad leg. The last thing he wanted was for the date to end early because _he_ couldn’t even _walk_ properly.

“Newt, are you okay?” Thomas asked, cutting in on his thoughts. He hadn’t accidentally limped, had he? No, he didn’t think so.

“Yeah, just a bit tired,” he answered honestly, thinking he could blame it on being up late or something normal like that. Thomas frowned, which even though he still looked handsome, wasn’t a good look on him.

“Is it your leg?” he asked simply, catching Newt off guard. _What? How did he know?_ He had by then gone through the last five minutes and satisfyingly concluded he _hadn’t_ in fact limped, so how could he know?

“How did you –“ he was about to ask, but Thomas interrupted him by ushering him to a nearby bench.

“Let’s sit for a while,” he offered with a smile. Newt squinted his eyes, unsure of how he knew that information. He hadn’t told _anyone_. Only Alby and Sonya knew. Maybe he’d heard it from Minho? Thomas was after all a part of the track team, so he could’ve let it slip, if Thomas had asked about him. But why would he do that? Even if he did, Minho didn’t know the reason he ditched the team. He looked at the brunet closely, who was currently ranting about some video game he had played, but he didn’t really pay attention to the story. As if sensing the blond’s scrutiny, he started rambling even quicker, and Newt was surprised he didn’t faint from lack of air.

Now that he thought about it, there was a lot of strange things about Thomas. How he had known about his leg, the way he’d looked when he had mentioned his parents. But also before that. How he hadn’t questioned living with his aunt, how he’d known to find him in the art room. What was going on?

“How did you know?” Newt finally asked, interrupting his rant abruptly. Thomas didn’t look at him, only making Newt more suspicious.

_It’s now or never,_ Thomas thought. He took a deep breath, sensing Newt’s cautious look. He looked him deep in the eye, wishing he could convey his sincerity properly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping he’d get the message across. Of course, Newt had no idea what was going on, and his brow only furrowed at his words. Avoiding his gaze once again, he pulled the black book out of his bag. He heard the sharp intake of breath, but didn’t dare to look at him when he handed the book to the blond. His hand was shaking, even more so when the weight of the book wasn’t removed. There was a pregnant silence in where Thomas just wished himself far, far away. His heart clenched painfully, the guilt consuming him from the inside. How could he have been so stupid? He should’ve handed it in when he first found it. He should’ve given it to him when he first realised who it belonged to. It shouldn’t have gone like this. With him hanging his head low in shame and Newt being too surprised and horror-struck to say anything. He was a disgusting human being.

When the silence became too much, Thomas lifted his head to look at the blond. He was pale, too pale, his eyes wide staring at the book, and his mouth slightly open. Then his eyes flickered to his, resentment clearly visible. Thomas flinched by the sight.

“ _You_ took it?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet, the words drenched in blame. Thomas tried to swallow a lump in his throat.

“I –“ His throat was so dry. But he had to speak. He had to make it up to him. “I –“ He cleared his throat. _Come on, Thomas!_

“What the bloody hell where you thinking?” Newt finally snapped, slapping the book out of his hand, standing up in anger. Thomas hurriedly stood to follow, but Newt was already on his way away from him.

“Newt! Newt wait, I can explain!” He quickly caught up, but stopped abruptly when Newt turned around, breathing harshly.

“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you! When I _finally_ thought that –“ he stopped, leaving the sentence unfinished, tears gathering in his eyes.

“It was all just a game to you, wasn’t it? Taking advantage of the suicidal kid. Is it some kind of weird fetish? Some new trend? Do you have hidden cameras everywhere?” He spit the words like poison, striking Thomas with everything he got. And he couldn’t blame him. This was, after all, his fault.

“Newt please,” Thomas tried softly, his voice breaking. He wasn’t strong enough for this.

“I can’t believe I thought you were different than all of those buggers. Now I know you’re not. You’re just like them. You don’t see me as a person. I’m just some object for your creepy satisfaction.” Newt was fuming, his eyes cold and hard. It tore Thomas to pieces to see him like this.

“Newt,” Thomas tried once again. He put all his strength into explaining everything, but he found that he had none left. His own eyes were glossy, while Newt’s were dry and red.

“Forget it, Thomas.” His name sounded harsh and cold like that, none of the earlier affection existent. “Just leave me the fuck alone.” With that, the blond started walking away from him, leaving him to wallow in misery.

Thomas wanted to chase him. He wanted to grab his hand and force him to listen. He wanted to erase that distrusting expression and replace it with one of understanding and forgiveness. And if he couldn’t do that, he wanted to lie on the ground and cry his heart out. Instead, he took a deep breath and started walking.

After all, he had some babysitting to do.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little note, that I probably won't be able to upload as frequent as I did earlier (every other day) But I will try my best to do it as much as possible!  
> On that note:  
> I really like this chapter for some reason! I hope you guys will as well c:  
> I'm so excited to hear your thoughts about this!  
> You guys are seriously the best, I can't believe all the comments I've gotten on this series! haaa , it makes me feel loved!  
> Feed the anxious student some comments on this chapter as well, please and thank you c:  
> Love you guys!  
> xoxo

Newt ran the whole way home despite his now hurting leg. His shaking hands made him fumble with his keys, making it even more difficult to open the door. Tears blurred his vision, but he angrily wiped them away. Finally getting the door open, he slammed the door, not slowing down to check that it stayed closed. He heard a faint call from the living room, where Sonya was sitting, but he ignored her and headed straight for his room. Slamming the door behind him, he collapsed in his bed, hiding his face in the pillow.

The pillow muffled his sobs and was quickly getting drenched. He ignored the sound of his door opening, knowing it was his aunt checking up on him. Not really having the energy to explain everything, he remained in his position not giving any indications to move.

“Newt?” she asked quietly, approaching him. He felt the bed dip as she sat next to him, running a hesitant hand through his hair. The gesture only reminded him of what he had imagined too many times but with a bigger hand, more calloused… A sob shook his entire body.

“Just leave me alone. Please,” he said quietly, trying to get the thought of Thomas running his hands through his hair out of his mind. Sonya had been there through his worst, so she knew, he would come to her when he was ready. As she left the room, his aching heart was momentarily filled with gratefulness.

How could he? _How could he?_ Why was it that every time Newt felt the world was getting right again, fate just had to prove him wrong? Was he never allowed to be happy? Would he constantly feel like this? Unneeded. Abnormal. A freak. The sobs raked through his body, shaking him violently.

He had written _everything_ in that book! Everything that had happened, what he was feeling. How could he ever show his face to someone who knew of the darkness in his mind? All his bad aspects were in that book. How could he even hoped to be liked by someone who knew all his faults?

Turning his head, he saw the small book lying on the floor, having fallen out of his bag when he threw it away. Slowly, he sat up, staring at the small book. Then he reached forward and started to read about a boy that felt so distant from him now. He turned the pages, chuckling a little at his own words even if they were drenched in sorrow and darkness. His finger turned the next page. He stopped. _Drawings._ They were from when he had finally begun to draw again. The sketches were rough and it was obvious he hadn't trained in a while. He glanced at the pile of drawings on his table, comparing them in his mind, realising how far he'd come in such a short while.

Then he froze. _He had drawn in the book. Thomas had read the book._ Someone had seen his drawings. And not only that, but there were rough sketches in there, completely unfinished. He suddenly felt ashamed that Thomas had seen them, none of them near the perfection he tried to achieve, unknowing that that was what exactly what Thomas liked so much about them.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Okay. _Okay._ He could get through this. He didn't usually see the brunet in school anyway, so that was one less problem. This would be easy. Right?

Even as he decided so, his heart ached and his hands felt cold, lacking the comforting touch he had so quickly become addicted to.

*******

 

Thomas had a hard time taking care of Chuck that evening. Even though he hadn’t accepted her offer, Teresa was with Chuck when he arrived. She took one look at him, and then embraced him warmly, holding him close for several minutes, until he finally felt himself break in her arms. It would be humiliating breaking down in front of a kid, but Chuck was like a brother to him, so when he joined the hug, and Thomas was squeezed between two of the people he loved the most, he couldn’t help but not care. He sobbed violently in Teresa’s shoulder, while she thread her fingers through his hair, rubbing his back and not even trying to hush him. That would serve no purpose. Chuck had no idea what was going on, but he knew Thomas well. He knew, Thomas normally didn’t cry. He knew, Thomas would rather hide from everyone as to not burden them, so it had to be serious for him to break so easily.

When he had cried himself dry, Teresa ushered him to the couch, where she enveloped him in piles of blankets, where he sat with Chuck snuggled up at his side and tried to focus on the movie they had put on. He couldn’t. There were too many thoughts going through his mind. Too many feelings battling in his heart. Guilt. Remorse. But also the feeling of wanting to make it all better. Not to himself. But to Newt. How was he feeling right now? Did he hate him? He scoffed at himself. Of course he did. There was no hope left. He should just go on with his life and ignore looking at blonds forever. He should probably pack a bag and leave. Start all over.

But he couldn’t make himself do it. He couldn’t leave. Not with Newt hating him. The words he’d said to him… He thought it was all a joke. All of it. The warm looks, the lingering touches, the bubbling laughter, the kiss on the cheek. He thought, Thomas was insincere. He had to change that thought. He had to tell him, how he felt. Because he couldn’t go on with Newt thinking it had all been a joke. Because then he’d start to believe it. And that’s not how it was. Not at all. If Newt then didn’t feel anything for him, then he would leave him alone. If Thomas could not make him happy, then he would stay far away.

He grunted at himself, but this time more humorously. _Jeez, you sound like an idiot in love._ Just as he had thought so, his body stilled. _In love?_ Was he _in love_? His breath suddenly became more rapid, his heart beating incredibly fast. Chuck looked at him worried and called Teresa over, but he couldn’t really hear their voices.

_I’m in love with Newt._

Now there was no way he could leave things be.

*******

The buzzing sound made Newt groan in response. This was, what, the 10th text he’d gotten the last five minutes? _Does he never give up?_ The texts were of course from the one person he didn’t want to speak to. Thomas. The first text had landed around eight, four hours after they’d split. He had mistakenly read it, thinking it was Alby, but threw his phone away the minute he noticed the number.

**8:13pm - From Tommy:**

**Newt, please let me explain.**

He’d had to bury himself in his duvet as to not giving in to the brunet. A part of him really, _really_ wanted to listen to Thomas, to hear his excuse. That same part held a childish hope that he had misunderstood and that Thomas genuinely liked him back. But then the other part of him argued, that _who would genuinely like you?_ And as usual, that part of him won. But as more texts came during the evening, he felt the hopeful part getting bigger and bigger. He wouldn’t give in. He _wouldn’t._

It was now around midnight, and the texts had stopped. Thomas probably realised, he had gone to bed. Not that he could fall asleep. One last message came through, but Newt merely turned his back on his phone, trying desperately to fall asleep.

He tossed and turned for about two hours before finally realising, sleep was not going to come. Sitting up, he could spot the silhouette of his phone lying on the floor. He bit his lip, and looked around, as if someone would scold him if he were to pick it up.

Then he did something he thought he would regret, but turned out to be one of his best decisions. He picked up the phone. Scrolling through the endless texts he found the most recent one.

**12:03am – From Tommy:**

**I’m outside.**

Newt inhaled sharply at the text. He hadn’t… Had he? It was autumn and around this time of night it might as well be winter. Just being outside at this hour was horrific. But had he waited? How long had he waited? Newt felt a rush of guilt at the image of Thomas freezing outside while Newt had done his best to ignore him. He glanced at his window. _He couldn’t possibly…?_

Even with the more rational side of him screaming at him how stupid he was, he walked over to the window. At first he saw nothing, and he scolded himself for the way his shoulders sagged disappointedly. But then he spotted something in the corner of his eye. A hunched shadow. A person. Wearing a familiar scarf. Before he could stop himself, he was running out of his room, out of the apartment, down the stairs and through the entrance. A figure looked up at the sound of the door opening, and Newt instantly noticed the red eyes and the bags under them. He knew he probably looked somewhat similar when he saw how Thomas’ eyes turned guiltily towards the ground.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, nearly cringing from how pathetically hoarse his voice sounded. He did manage to make it sound bitter though, and he should probably feel a little glad at the flinch Thomas did, but it only made his eyes soften. _Stupid Tommy, already taking my broken heart without permission._ Said person finally stood up, and Newt noticed the awkwardness in his limbs, the way he rubbed his arms, trying to get the feeling back in them.

“I want to explain,” he said, obviously trying to sound determined, but he stammered slightly. Reality hit Newt. Thomas had sent that text at midnight. He had been standing outside, waiting for _him_ for at least two hours. He’d also have to walk the whole way, Newt remembering he didn’t have a car or even a bicycle, so that was probably another fifteen to thirty minutes, depending on how far away he lived. Now that he looked closely, Thomas’ lips were a shade of blue that really didn’t look healthy, and even though he tried his best, Newt still noticed the way he shivered. He couldn’t leave him out here. He wasn’t a bad person. At least that was the reason he told himself for letting the brunet come into his apartment. It had nothing to do with the hopeful part of him for once winning…

“Come on then,” he said, opening the door wide, gesturing for him to get in. At first Thomas didn’t believe his luck. When he realised it wasn’t a trick, the smile spreading on his frozen face made Newt’s heart leap as if the incident today – well, now it was technically yesterday – had never happened. But it had. And Newt tried his best to keep his expression cold.

But it was very hard to do with a frozen brunet following him like a puppy.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I finished it! yay!  
> You guys nearly made me cry from all the amazing comments! I wish I could hug all of you... oh wait! *virtual hugs for everyone!*  
> I will try to upload two chapters a week, but I still have no idea how much time I will need to spend on school... sigh. I do need to finish this fic at one point though *sadness*  
> I have noooo idea how long this will be, since I still have a few ideas I want to put in it! We'll see!  
> One thing I do know, is that you guys give me motivation! So as always, feel free to feed me with more of your delicious comments, hehe  
> xoxo

Newt closed the door quietly after them. It was after all two in the morning, and his aunt was sleeping. He gestured for Thomas to follow him, avoiding looking at him too much. They didn’t get there as quickly as Newt would’ve liked, since Thomas stopped every meter to look at the apartment. When they finally got there, Newt shut the door with a relieved sigh, leaning against it while watching Thomas look around. His heart leapt when he saw one of his bigger paintings uncovered, but then remembered the brunet had already seen his art. The thought only made his heart beat quicker.

Thomas’ eyes landed on the large canvas, eyeing Newt carefully as though he was asking permission. With Newt refusing to meet his eyes, the brunet’s head hung heavily, and he turned away from the canvas.

The silence was deafening. Newt realised, this was the first time he had ever experienced an uncomfortable silence around the brunet. He wanted to say something, to yell at him, to cry a little, and then bury his face in his neck… No. It couldn’t be like that. Thomas didn’t feel that way. He shouldn’t be thinking about things like that. He ran a hand through his blond locks, trying to decide how he should approach the deceiving, lying boy. Because that’s what he was. At least that’s what Newt tried to convince himself he was. It was easier that way.

He didn’t realise Thomas was still shivering, or that he was repeatedly licking his dry, chapped lips, and clenching and unclenching his hands to get some feeling into them. It was only when Thomas sniffed, that Newt looked up from the floor. He accidentally looked right into Thomas’ brown eyes and found it extremely difficult to look away. They were filled with such guilt, regret, and sadness, that Newt felt his heart melt at the sight. He nearly forgot about everything and jumped into his arms. But then his eyes instinctively flickered to the brunet’s lips, and there he noticed the state of them. That’s what you get for staying outside for approximately two hours. The realisation finally brought Newt into action. He moved from his spot but staggered slightly when he couldn’t lean his weight on the door, too emotionally drained to keep himself up. Nevertheless, he stubbornly found a blanket and threw it to the still brunet before sitting on his bed.

Once Thomas had processed the gesture, he gratefully pulled the blanket close around him and sighed as the warmth thawed him. He looked at Newt and contemplated whether to sit next to him, but decided the chair across the blond was probably a safer choice. Once settled down, Newt finally broke the silence.

“Go on then,” he said harshly, making Thomas flinch at the tone. He had never heard Newt this angry. A part of him was a bit intrigued, glad to hear a new side of him, but the bigger part of him knew, that his chances of getting to know even more about him were slim. So, he settled on being extremely nervous for now. He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice again, hoping he wouldn’t sound too pitiful once he started speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, thinking even if he were to succeed, he would still be saying those words for quite some time. Apparently, that wasn't a good start, as Newt squinted his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Hear me out, please,” Thomas hurriedly continued. Seeing Newt’s mouth relax, Thomas sagged slightly. He took a deep breath.

“I found it two weeks ago –“ he began.

*******

When Thomas had told him everything – from finding the book in the bathroom, to meeting Newt, to realising who it belonged to, to his conversation with Teresa, and up until now. He had repeated several times how torn he had felt, wanting to return the diary but being afraid of returning it.

Newt took a few minutes processing it all, trying to make sense of everything while Thomas fidgeted nervously in the chair.

However pissed he was at him, he couldn't blame him for looking in the book in the first place. Of course it would be someone's first thought to see if there was any indication to who owned the book. There was just one thing nagging his mind.

“Why did you keep reading it?” Newt asked, breaking the tense silence. Thomas jumped in the chair, rubbing his neck uncomfortably.

“Uh,” he tried, his heart beating rapidly, unsure what to say. He looked at the floor, wracking his brain for an answer. Newt huffed.

“If you're not going to tell me then just say so,” Newt said harshly, looking anywhere but at the brunet. He should never had done this. He scowled, angry with himself for actually hoping, _believing,_ that Thomas had a reasonable explanation. He felt so stupid for feeling disappointed.

“No, wait!” Thomas exclaimed, panic rising in him. His thoughts only on pulling Newt out of his unforgiving thoughts, Thomas practically jumped out of the chair to position himself next to the blond on the bed. The sudden weight next to him made Newt turn his head, and he hated himself for how his heart jumped at the closeness.

“I know what you're thinking, but it's not like that, I promise. If I could, I would tell you. It's just… I've never really talked about it with anyone.” Thomas bit his lip, watching the blond’s face carefully.

Newt didn't really know what to feel about that. On the one hand, Thomas knew all about his secrets, so why shouldn't Newt know about his? It felt unfair, and an ugly part of Newt wanted revenge. On the other hand, Thomas was looking so vulnerable, his face paler than usual, his eyes looking as lonely and hopeful that Newt felt. Also, Newt couldn’t be more aware that their knees were touching. _Damn it._ How did he make him so weak?

“Alright,” Newt said softly, doing what his heart wanted and ignoring his mind screaming. The relieved look on Thomas’ face was enough proof that it was the right decision.

A small smile played on Thomas’ lips then, and Newt couldn’t help but let his gaze flicker to them. He really wanted to just close the space between them and finally get a taste of the brunet. Instead, he stood up and walked briskly out of the room, leaving a confused Thomas on the bed.

He came back with some blankets and pillows, causing Thomas to frown. Newt had to force himself not to giggle at the cute sight. _No, not cute. I’m still mad. Be mad._ However, he felt a smile spreading on his face. _Traitor._

Turning his back on Thomas to hide the smile, he started to position the things on the floor, making it look like a bed. At this point, Thomas seemed to notice what he was doing.

“Newt, you don’t have to – I can leave,” he said, starting to get up, but Newt pushed him down persistently (which in any other scenario would’ve turned Thomas on… who was he kidding, even in the situation, he still felt the blush crawl under his skin, his whole body tingling with excitement).

“Your lips are still blue, Tommy,” and _fuck_ , did he just use his nickname? He noticed Thomas’ smile widening even more at the name, and Newt hurriedly continued. “There’s no way I’m letting you go out there like this.” If Newt was being too sensitive to someone who just admitted to finding out everything he had tried so hard to keep hidden. To his defence, a sniffling Thomas was a very pitiful Thomas. And just a tiny bit cute.

What he hadn’t thought through, was that Thomas slept without shirt. Which meant, that even though he managed only to glance while the brunet removed his pants, he openly stared when he pulled his shirt off. Because _damn._ He knew Thomas was part of the track team, but _how the hell did he look like that?_ Was it even humanly possible to look that good? His fingers tingled as he ran his eyes over Thomas’ body, wondering how it would feel to let them run over his muscles. Or better yet, let his _tongue…_ No, better stop there before his pants got too tight. To make it even more embarrassing, because apparently this was the worst day of Newt’s life, Thomas had noticed him staring.

Newt quickly turned around, clearing his throat ashamedly. He was still completely dressed, but how was he supposed to undress after seeing _that_? He heard the blankets being lifted, and quickly threw his pants off before jumping under the covers, hoping Thomas had been too occupied to look. He lay facing the wall, his face still red from the fantasies now stuck in his mind. He tried to focus on the gentle breathing sounding from the floor, but then he got to think of how it would be to feel the breath on his ear, tickling the nape of his neck…

Yeah, there was no way he was going to get any sleep. Apparently, Thomas had the same feeling. His breathing now sounded more ragged, and Newt could practically hear him shivering. He turned around quietly, and saw Thomas’ furrowed brows, his clenched jaw, and the way he pulled the blankets tightly around him. He was probably trying his best to make his breathing sound normal, so Newt wouldn’t notice. The thought made his heart melt.

“Tommy,” he whispered, trying to gather courage. The brunet tentatively opened one eye. “Get up here,” Newt said, turning around again but scooting closer to the wall.

“No, it’s okay I’m –“ Thomas tried, but Newt cut him off.

“I can practically hear you shivering. You’ll be warmer up here. Come on.” Newt’s heart was beating wildly, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. It seemed to do the trick though, as he felt the bed dip when Thomas laid down beside him. He forced himself to breathe normally, though his mind was going crazy with the thought that _Thomas was in the same bed as him!_

They lay awkwardly next to each other, both unsure of how to lie in a way that they were both comfortable. The shared duvet quickly heated up with both of their bodies radiating warmth, and Thomas gave a contented sigh as he could finally give in to exhaustion without his body being on alert. They drifted off, sleep craving both of them. Newt was vaguely aware of the arm that at some point softly gripped his waist.

He was unaware of the way he subconsciously leaned in to the touch.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I'm still alive.  
> I'm soooo sorry it's been so long! BUT I didn't break my promise, it's not more than a week since I updated!  
> I reeeeally like this chapter, and I hope it was worth the wait for you guys :-)  
> As always thank you sooooo much for all the support for this series! You make the long school hours bearable :')  
> Feel free to let me know what you think!  
> xoxo

Newt woke up from the best sleep he’d ever had. There was no restlessness, no random startling, but simply sleep. His eyelids were heavy when he tried to pry them open, and he slowly became aware of a soft weight on his waist. Finally adjusting his eyes, he looked down to see a familiar looking hand. He frowned slightly at the sight, a moment of panic alerting his brain. But then he remembered. Remembered that Thomas had spent the night. In his bed.

Not that he was complaining – he just hadn’t imagined it’d happen like this. His heart ached at the thought, his mind now fully functional, and he knew, he had to get out before Thomas woke up and noticed the way their legs were tangled together.

He hesitated, savouring the warmth radiating from the body behind him, before forcing himself out of the soft grip the brunet had on him. Just as he had left, he immediately regretted it, missing the way their bodies were pressed together. For a second, he contemplated slipping into his arms again, but then Thomas stirred in his sleep, making Newt nearly jump towards the other end of the room, settling on staring at the body in his bed.

The duvet had slipped down to Thomas’ waist, giving the blond perfect view of the toned chest. Once again, Newt couldn’t stop himself from imagining how it would be, to touch, to feel, to kiss the skin, the dotting moles adorning his neck. He almost succeeded in not blushing. Almost.

Not trusting himself with the defenceless brunet, he grabbed some random clothes and made his way to the shower.

With the steaming water flowing over him, he tried not to imagine the warm body pressing against his back.

*******

Thomas woke up feeling empty, his body strangely cold. He opened his eyes to see his arm lying over empty sheets, and that’s when he remembered.

He had thought the warmth, the hair tickling his face, had only been a dream, but he realised, he had held Newt throughout the night. The thought caused his heart to leap. He had been _cuddling_ with Newt. _Newt_. The gorgeous, intelligent, extremely creative, wonderful being that he was deeply in love with. That person. He had just laid with that person. _Holy fuck._

He became aware of the empty room, and then realised the blond was nowhere to be seen. He frowned. _Oh no. It was too much, wasn’t it? He didn’t like it. Stupid, **stupid.**_ He scolded himself internally, running a hand over his face and through his hair. He had screwed up big time.

Newt had kindly let him stay _because the weather was fucking horrible, and you stayed outside, waiting, like an idiot_ and Thomas repaid him like this. By taking advantage of him.

He frantically looked around the room until he located his clothes lying on the floor. He grabbed them quickly, practically throwing them on, and nearly slipping when he accidentally stood on his pants.

He had just pulled the zipper when the door opened. The sight of Newt made him freeze. He had just showered, droplets of water falling from his hair, sliding down his neck and further down his loose shirt. Thomas gulped.

Newt looked unbelievable cute in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, his face slightly flushed from the heat of the shower, and Thomas couldn’t help but imagine it was _his_ clothes, and that his red cheeks were from the heat of something else… Yeah, no, better not stay on that thought, or he’d have a hard time concealing his impure thoughts. He shifted awkwardly, adverting his gaze from the blond, ashamed of himself. Why was he like this? Why was it so difficult to control himself?

_Because you’re in love._ The thought made him smile slightly, a brief wave of fondness coming over his heart. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Because _Newt didn’t feel the same way._ Why would he? Thomas had invaded his privacy and forced himself on him. His face visibly fell.

The sound of footsteps made him look up from the floor, which was a great mistake. His eyes met stunningly brown ones filled with questions and sadness. Wait. Sadness? Why was he sad? Thomas instantly felt angry at whatever had made the blond sad, wanting to destroy anything that could ever make him feel that way. Then he realised, _he_ was the reason. He would have to destroy himself. Though if Newt never wanted to see him again, that was very likely to destroy him. But he would still go through with it.

“Tommy?” a small voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

Thomas’ heart melted. Even in their situation, even after everything he’d done, Newt was still considerate, still wanting to help. In short, he was still incredible. Thomas’ eyes softened.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, remembering his vow from yesterday. What did he have to lose anyway?

Newt’s eyes turned defensive, taking a small step back that Thomas only noticed because he paid close attention to the blond’s reaction.

“I thought you explained everything last night,” Newt said, his voice harsh. Thomas would’ve flinched if he hadn’t already expected it.

“Not all of it.” Thomas took a deep breath, trying to ignore how obviously Newt was preparing himself for another dark secret being revealed.

This was it. All or nothing.

“I’m in love with you.”

The confession came out in a whisper. Thomas forced himself to watch the blond, even though all he wanted to do was run and hide.

Whatever horrible things Newt had expected, this was not one of them. That much was clear, as the blond froze on the spot. His eyes stared incredulously into nothing, making Thomas wonder if he saw anything at all. His body was completely still, only his chest moving slightly as he breathed.

Thomas fidgeted, not sure how to interpret the response. When nothing came after a few minutes, he murmured quietly:

“Newt?”

He blinked.

He blinked again.

Then it was as if all emotions returned to him and he was pulled out of his trance. His eyes cleared and they started to flicker across the room, never resting on one spot for more than half a second. Thomas reached a hand out, trying to calm the blond, but as soon as his fingertips brushed the blond’s shoulder, Newt flinched away, his eyes finally settling on Thomas’.

He wished they hadn’t. They were filled with raw emotions that Thomas couldn’t decipher. When they finally settled on one emotion, Newt spoke.

“Get out,” he said quietly, his voice harsh. Thomas flinched.

“Newt, I –“ he tried, but the blond stopped him before he could finish.

“Get. Out.” He spit the words out venomously, hitting Thomas right where it hurt. His throat constricted, and he had trouble breathing properly. _Not now,_ he thought. His gaze flickered away, and he let himself succumb to the need to flee. He pushed past the blond, murmuring a quiet ‘I’m sorry’ before running out of the room, out of the apartment, and out into the cold autumn weather. The cold didn’t affect him as he started running. He was numb to the bone. Thomas kept running, not caring where he was going or how he was going to get back. He just ran. His breathing was ragged, and he knew he should stop and just _breathe_ just like his mother had taught him, but he couldn’t.

So he just kept running.

*******

Newt stood frozen on the spot just like he had been before Thomas stormed out of there.

_I’m in love with you._

The words kept playing over and over in his head. The image of Thomas’ scared but hopeful eyes looking into his own, waiting for a response. The way his composure shattered completely when Newt told him to go. That would haunt him forever.

_I’m in love with you._

How? How could he? He knew how wrecked Newt was, how broken and miserable he was. It wasn’t possible. And yet… he couldn’t convince himself that Thomas was insincere no matter how probable it was.

He didn’t know how long he stood there until Sonya quietly entered his room and saw him frozen. She guided him to the bed where he slumped against her, suddenly feeling very tired.

“Are you going to tell me on your own, or do I have to force it out of you?” she asked, combing her fingers through his hair like she always did when he was upset.

“It’s nothing,” he murmured into her shoulder in a weak hope that she would let it go. She huffed. Of course she wouldn’t.

“You know that’s not going to work. Might as well just tell me what’s going on.”

They sat quietly for a while, Sonya patiently waiting for an answer. She was always like that. It was hard not to tell her, when she was so understanding and attentive. Damn her.

“It’s just boyfriend trouble,” he said quietly, not really registering his choice of words. Her sharp intake of breath made him aware of it though. _Fuck._

“ _Boyfriend?_ ” she asked, pulling away to look at him. He squirmed under her stare, instantly regretting everything. He rubbed the nape of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, he’s not my boyfriend, just some guy I like, or _liked_ , I’m not really sure anymore. I mean, he’s cute and handsome and his _eyes_ are just adorable, I could get lost in them and his _hands_ –“ He stopped rambling abruptly, realising what he was saying.

He finally registered the surprise in her tone, realising of course she wouldn’t know that he was gay. _Oh shit._ He turned away from her, not wanting to see the face of disgust on her face. Now she’d throw him out. He’d have nowhere to go. No more friendly banter. No more horribly burnt meals. No more fond hair ruffles. No more fingers going through his hair to comfort him.

In two days he’d managed to ruin his relationship with the two persons he’d cared for. Tomorrow he’d probably fuck something up with Alby and he’d lose everyone he cared about. He’d be all alone. Again.

He hadn’t realised he was hyperventilating before a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Newt, breathe. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.” He became aware of the arms wrapped around him, the fingers going through his hair, the soft kisses on the top of his head. How long had he been like this? He slowly calmed down, stopping his mind from overthinking.

“You’re not mad?” he asked, when he got control over himself. She chuckled, and he could feel the rumble going through her body.

“Of course I’m not. I love you, no matter what. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Her words allowed him to relax completely, his head falling lightly against her shoulder.

“What about him?” she asked, catching him off guard. He raised his head to look at her, frowning.

“Who?”

“The guy you’re obviously head over heels for. How does he feel?” The question made memories flash before him.

_‘I was dragged here by a friend. I’m Thomas.’_

_‘I just wondered if you wanted to grab some coffee some time?’_

_‘You can call me Tommy, I don’t mind.’_

_‘How was your day?’_

_‘Take my scarf. I’m half Viking anyway.’_

_‘I’m sorry.’_

_‘I’m so sorry.’_

_‘I’m in love with you.’_

It was all there. It had been there all along. All the signs. The signs Newt had discarded as platonic kindness, as something he did to everyone. Except he didn’t. It was there. It was there when he stared at him at the party, when he was wondering how it was possible to be that handsome. It was there when he had been so nervous to ask him out. It was there when his eyes lit up just a tiny bit whenever Newt called him Tommy. It was there when he genuinely cared about everything that happened to Newt. It was there when he took care of Newt in the smallest ways, like giving him his scarf on a cold autumn’s day. It was there when he had been so afraid of confessing but did it anyway because Newt deserved to know the truth.

It was there when he told him, he was in love with him. It was all there.

And Newt hadn’t seen it. Or maybe he had. Maybe, he just couldn’t grasp the thought that someone genuinely cared for him in that sense. Maybe, it all seemed to good to be true, so Newt wouldn’t believe it. Maybe, when Newt had been right and it had been too good to be true, he had thrown it away, only looking at the one bad thing, that actually could be a good thing, and ignoring all the wonderful things that made it worth it.

Maybe, Newt was in love with him too.

“I’m an idiot.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop, here it is! Another chapter!  
> Okay, so I think saturday/sunday night will be my update date, seeing as it is usually the only time I have off!   
> Anyhow, I reeeeally hope you like this chapter. I'm not so sure how I like the ending of this one, but I think it turned out alright.  
> Let me know what you think?  
> As always, a huge thanks to all of you who still follow and read this story! It means a lot!  
> xoxo

Thomas’ feet were pounding on the ground, having left the town area half an hour ago. Or had it been hours already? He had no idea. Time didn’t exist in that moment, all that mattered was the blood pumping through his veins, the cold air scratching his throat, and the sweat soaking through his clothes.

He was so stupid. So incredibly stupid. Of course Newt didn’t feel the same way! What had he been thinking? That despite everything Newt would forgive him? Hell, even if he _did_ forgive him, that didn’t mean Newt felt something for him. After all, they had only gone out a couple of times. He had no right to be mad at the blond. And honestly, he wasn’t. Not even the slightest. He should be, he _wanted_ to be, but no matter what, he couldn’t get himself to blame the blond.

After all, it was all his fault.

He should’ve just left the book where he found it. Why did he even pick it up? What was so strange about a student forgetting their notebook on the toilet? He should’ve brought it to the administration’s office as soon as he picked it up. He shouldn’t have read in it. He shouldn’t have kept it for his own selfish reasons. He just… shouldn’t.

Frustrated, he picked up his pace, running faster and faster. His eyes started watering, his throat burning. Everything seemed to pass by in a blur.

Which is why he didn't see the cliff before he fell.

*******

Newt had just stepped out of the apartment, intending on going to Thomas immediately when he realised… He didn't know where he lived. Thomas had always walked him home, so he had never seen his house. He knew the brunet lived near a forest, having mentioned how he preferred to walk through it on his way home. Other than that, Newt had no idea. He pulled the phone out from his pocket, dialling the brunet.

Voicemail. Of course. After all, he _had_ just told him to get out. Newt cringed. _Alright, plan B._

“Newt? What's wrong?” Alby's voice sounded from his phone, and Newt tried not to sigh.

“Why do you always assume something's wrong?” he asked, tightening the scarf around his neck. The same scarf Thomas had given him…

“Because there always is. Come on, out with it.” Newt frowned at his phone, trying to come up with a time where nothing was wrong. He reluctantly gave in when he found none.

“I need a favour. You have access to all student information, right?”

“Yes,” he answered slowly, trying to figure out the blond’s motives. “Why?”

“”I, uh, need someone's address.” Newt held his breath in the silence that followed, begging that Alby wouldn't ask too many questions. He had wasted enough time as it was.

“Fine. Give me the name and I'll look them up.” He could hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, as he settled in front of his computer. Newt sighed relieved, and gave him Thomas’ name and class. Alby quickly found the address saying it out loud and Newt made sure to remember it by heart. Before Alby had a chance of inquiring about the strange request, Newt had already hung up and was on his way to the house.

It took him nearly an hour to get there by foot. His leg was aching from the long walk, and yet he didn't notice, his excitement overshadowing all other emotions.

He knocked three times on the door, barely keeping himself from jumping up and down. When he heard steps going down the stairs the anticipation nearly killed him.

However, that all changed when a girl opened the door.

She was pretty. Raven hair falling gently on her shoulders. Blue intelligent eyes. Pretty pink lips. And she was opening the door as if she lived there. Except she didn't. He'd checked the mailbox. He'd replayed Alby’s voice over and over. This was the right address. But Thomas didn't have a sister. So who was this?

He was too shocked to notice the other’s similar expression. However she recovered first.

“Newt? What are you doing here?” That brought him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, how do you know –“ he began, but she waved him off.

“Oh please, you're all Thomas talks about. He pointed you out a couple of times in the hallway,” she explained. Newt didn't even try to fight the blush creeping up his neck. She smiled at his reaction, but then pulled her eyebrows together in a frown.

“But really, what _are_ you doing here? I thought Thomas was at your house?” This made Newt frown as well.

“W-well, he was, but he left a couple of,” he took a moment to glance at the time on his phone “hours ago. Wait, hours?” His frown deepened in sync with the girl’s.

“Where did he go?” she asked quietly, though he could tell she already knew the answer.

“Here.”

*******

Thomas woke up with a pounding head. He tried to open his eyes, and groaned in pain when he finally managed to. Slowly, he took in his surroundings. It was dark, the trees wrapping him in shadows. His whole body hurt. He brought a hand to the back of his head, flinching when he touched a soar wound. When he was able to focus on his hand, he saw a thick, dark liquid.

At least he was conscious enough to know, that wasn't a good sign. He tried to push himself into an upright position, but found his limbs too weak. This really wasn't good. He vaguely registered the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket, but his fingers were too stiff to reach it. How long had he been lying there?

He was cold. Too cold. So cold that he wasn't shivering anymore although he could tell by the stiffness of his body that he had been for quite a while.

He knew he should get up. He knew he should get himself somewhere warm. And yet when sleep came, he didn't have the strength to fight.

*******

Newt was pacing back and forth in Thomas’ living room. The girl – Teresa, as he had learnt she was called – was pacing with him.

It had nearly been four hours since anyone had seen Thomas.

As soon as they realised, Thomas wouldn’t have stayed away for that long without contacting either of them, they called the police. They were out there right now searching for him. At first, both Newt and Teresa had wanted to join in on the search, but Thomas’ mother had forced them to stay inside, saying it wouldn’t do any of them good if the two of them got themselves lost. So instead, they had settled on pacing back and forward in her living room. It was pure torture.

Mrs. Green was biting her nails, torn between looking out of the window and glancing at her phone, as if she was expecting Thomas to come waltzing in through the front door. Newt scoffed at the thought. _That would be Thomas. Getting all of us worried and then showing up with that stupid grin on his face._

He fell into a light conversation with Teresa, as they both tried to distract their minds from the potential danger Thomas was in. When he learned that she had been the best friend that had dragged Thomas to the party where they met, he couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved – and also grateful. She had introduced him as _Thomas’ good friend_ with a questioning glance when Mrs. Green had asked about him. He would’ve been extremely nervous about meeting Thomas’ mother, especially without him around, but given the circumstances, he didn’t have the reserve of energy to. They tried to have small talk with each other, but somehow they always ended up talking about Thomas, so they ended up worrying in silence.

Until _finally_ , the phone rang.

Thomas’ mother eagerly picked it up and listened to the person on the other end. Newt and Teresa stared at her intently, impatient to know what had happened. She thanked the person on the phone and hung up, getting out of the chair and moving towards the door.

“They found him,” she simply said before gesturing them to follow her. They all went outside and sat in her car, Teresa already inquiring about the phone call.

“Where’re we going?” she asked, noticing the usually careful woman was driving over the speed limit.

“The hospital.”

*******

Thomas was pale. It didn’t suit him. Thomas was the kind of person to stay outside as long as possible, his skin easily tanning, his hair usually tousled from the wind. He was usually one to be covered in dirt or oil, always eager to dig in and get his hands dirty.

He wasn’t supposed to lie motionlessly in a hospital bed, wrapped in blankets, with an IV sticking out of his arm and a monitor beeping dangerously slow.

They had found him on the outskirts of town in some kind of cove. They said he’d fallen and hit his head. That his body temperature was way too low, that he was suffering from severe hypothermia, and that he was lucky to be alive.

To say that Newt was pissed, was an understatement.

Why did he go so far away? Why didn’t he look where he was going? He was a track runner, he should know the basic rules; always know where you’re going. How did it come to this?

Was it his fault? At the thought he felt the familiar rush of guilt clench his heart. It was, wasn’t it? He shouldn’t be here. Thomas’ heartbeat was horrifyingly slow, and it was all his fault. He looked at the pale figure in the bed. What had he done to deserve this? Why was Thomas so persistent?

It seemed, no matter how hard Newt tried to fight it, Thomas always found a way back in his life. And Newt had already decided he wouldn’t fight it anymore. So why did he want to run away again?

Teresa sat at Thomas’ side, holding his hand. She didn’t blame Newt. She had told him that. Thomas always did stupid things, that was his character. This, was just a very, _very_ stupid thing, that she wouldn’t easily forgive. Newt could only agree.

At one point, Teresa had gone with Thomas’ mother to get some lunch, as it was nearing four, and neither of them had eaten. Which left Newt alone with Thomas. He took Teresa’s spot, taking the hand she had been holding and stroking it gently. He watched Thomas’ chest rising and falling steadily, clinging to sound of his breath, fearing every second that it would stop.

It didn’t. He kept breathing. In fact, his breathing was becoming more and more normal, instead of the soft, slow pace it’d had before, indicating he was waking up. Not that Newt noticed. He was too focused on making sure, that he was indeed breathing, to notice when he finally did wake up. He only noticed, when he heard a rasp sound.

“Newt.”

The name came out choked, and Thomas immediately coughed at the strain of using his voice. Newt steadied him and helped him take a sip of water before looking into the now wide open brown eyes.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling gently at the brunet.

“What’re you doing here?” Thomas asked, looking around as if only now realising where he was. “What am I doing here?”

“They found you in the woods. You’d been lying in the cold for quite a while. They said your body temperature was so low they rushed you here as fast as they could. You’re okay now, though. As long as you get warm, you’ll be fine.” Newt wasn’t sure if the last sentences were supposed to comfort Thomas or himself. Probably, mostly the latter. Thomas didn’t even seem shocked by the whole thing.

“Oh,” he simply uttered, looking back at the blond. “You didn’t answer my first question.” He smirked cheekily, and Newt couldn’t help but cheer a little inwardly at the way he was his usual self.

“Of course I’m here, you idiot,” he said softly, moving his hand to run his fingers through Thomas’ brown locks. The brunet leaned in to the touch, closing his eyes. They were silent for a while, Newt gently stroking his hair.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Thomas suddenly whispered, too quiet and insecure for Newt’s taste. The blond frowned, his hand retreating to his lap, his eyes looking down. Trhomas opened his eyes, watching the blond intently.

“I do,” Newt answered just as quietly, heat rising to his cheeks. “Like you, that is.” He was careful to look anywhere but at Thomas.

“It’s just that, well, you surprised me, and with everything going on I had to figure everything out. But I realised that I do like you. Very much, actually. I, uh, what I’m trying to say is –“ he continued, finally getting the courage to turn his head and meet Thomas’ curious gaze.

“I’m in love with you too.”

And for all the anger he had felt, all the disappointment, all the anxiety, the distrust, the hurt, the betrayal, nothing mattered, when he saw the way Thomas beamed at him.

The pure happiness reflected in his smile was contagious, and Newt couldn’t help but chuckle and smile back. However, he didn’t have much time to revel at the sight as suddenly a hand clasped around his neck, pulling him, and _finally_ his lips felt the soft pressure they had been aching for, for so long. It was soft and gentle, but craving. It was perfect.

Of course, at that moment Thomas’ mother and best friend decided to walk into the room both gasping slightly at the sight. Newt pulled back quickly, his face incredibly red, but Thomas merely smiled at him, not caring the slightest that they had seen. In fact, his eyes glinted mischievously, and he winked, only adding to Newt’s embarrassment.

“Well, it seems you’re well enough,” Thomas’ mother said, walking to the side of his bed. “So why don’t we talk about _why the hell_ you thought it was a good idea to scare us like that?!” Her voice was stern, her eyes dangerously demanding. Thomas flinched from her tone.

“Newt,” he whined, “Save me.” But Newt could only laugh, having to agree with Thomas’ mother. He and Teresa left the room obediently; both slightly satisfied with the way Thomas cringed guiltily.

The three of them silently agreed, that after all the worrying they’d done, he deserved a little guilt trip.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooo exhausted, but I wanted to finish this chapter and look! Here it is! Yaay!  
> I don't know if it's just me being weird (it probably is) but I'm just sort of afraid that you guys will forget this fic before I get to finish it... sigh. I wish I could update more frequently and give you guys all the chapters you deserve (and that's a lot btw) because you're soooo supportive and I'm soooo grateful. This fic is turning out longer than I anticipated, and I reeeeally hope that I'm not boring you guys, since I still have some things I want to do with it, and I don't want to end it here!  
> Anyhow, I won't abandon this fic, that's not where I'm going with this! I just hope what I give once a week is good enough ('cause I don't feel that it is)
> 
> Sorry for the long rant! You're forgiven if you don't give a crap and just want to read the story! cx  
> So here it is!  
> Thank you guys so much again and again for all the support, you have no idea how much it warms my heart and motivates me!  
> xoxo

“Thomas, would you stay still?” Newt groaned, almost painfully as he watched the still healing brunet fiddling around his room.

It had been about a week since Thomas’ accident. Since he wasn’t allowed to go to school yet, Newt visited him every day, bringing him his homework. It had been a bit weird between them in the beginning, considering how they went from not talking at all to being – what, boyfriends? Was that what they were? Newt wasn’t sure. For now, however, he was content, which was quite a big deal for him. He wasn’t about to jeopardize that.

By spending more time with each other, sometimes even staying for dinner, they had slowly gone back to how they were before except with more smiles and lingering touches.

They hadn’t kissed again since that day.

Thomas seemed perfectly fine, but Newt was aching to feel the softness of his lips once more. And not just that. He was getting more thoughts about how it would feel to be pressed up against a wall with Thomas’ rough hands looming over him, how a frantic kiss would feel like, how a possessive, overprotective Thomas would mark his skin…

Newt suddenly snapped out of his daydreaming state when the bed dipped next to him. The meaning of his thoughts caught up to him, and he coughed awkwardly to cover the blush spreading on his face. When he calmed down, he turned to see a beaming Thomas next to him, his face close enough that he was able to count his long eyelashes, and he felt the warmth flickering in him again.

“Sorry, I just can’t wait for school tomorrow,” he said enthusiastically, then frowned as he realised his words. “I never thought I’d say that.”

Newt chuckled at the troubled look on his face, then comfortingly patted his thigh. The brunet smiled shyly at him at the gesture, raising his head to gaze into the other’s brown eyes. They were mere centimetres away, and it would be so easy to just… Newt leaned slightly forward, their noses grazing each other. He closed his eyes halfway about to close the gap between them, when the warmth suddenly disappeared. He blinked surprised, seeing the brunet had moved from his spot, now at the other end of his room.

What just happened?

Thomas refused to look at him, suddenly very interested with the seam of his shirt. Newt opened his mouth, about to ask if he was okay, but the brunet beat him to it.

“I, uh, I’ll go see if my mom needs help in the kitchen,” he said giving an uncertain smile before bouncing down the stairs as quickly as his body would let him.

To say that Newt was confused, was a major understatement. Didn’t he want this? Was he already regretting? No. It couldn’t be that. He had already gone through great lengths to prove that he cared about Newt. But then what? What was the problem? He couldn’t _not_ want to kiss. After all, _he_ had been the one to initiate their first. But what was it? What was wrong?

He’d just have to confront Thomas about it directly.

*******

Turns out, confronting Thomas was next to impossible. Especially since Thomas barely said two words to him.

Newt had thought when Thomas returned to school, they would get to spend time together at lunch and he would finally get out of his lonesome habit of sitting in the art room. But no, even when Newt tried to locate the brunet, he was either sitting at a full table or not present in the canteen. Even when he went looking in the hallways, he rarely spotted the familiar mop of brown hair. And when he did, it was in the corners of his eyes, gone before he could take a better look.

Thomas was clearly avoiding him. And frankly, Newt was getting sick of it. Hadn’t they gone through enough? Wasn’t this supposed to be their well-deserved time of happiness?

Newt’s fingers twitched. The brush in his hand made an involuntary line that ruined his otherwise carefully drawn figure.

He had been so certain a couple of days ago. But now? Doubt was settling in his mind. Why did Thomas avoid him? Was he really that repulsive? After everything, had it not been worth it?

_Yes. Yes it was._ It was all worth it. Newt would be damned if he let it all go. He had lost too much. He would not lose _his_ _Tommy_ as well.

So when he spotted the brunet’s dark-haired best friend through the window, he left the art room, not even thinking about covering the canvas. He ran down the hallway, pushing past people as he went. Getting outside, he saw Teresa sitting under a tree with a book, once in a while taking notes. Newt briefly wondered what she was doing by herself but shoved the thought aside. The Newt from a month ago would've nearly died from anxiety for just approaching her, but this Newt didn't think twice before doing so.

“Teresa,” he called, stopping in front of her. Said girl looked up at the sound of her name. She gave him a knowing smile as she recognised him.

“Hi Newt,” she replied, gesturing for him to sit down next to her. He hesitated slightly before sitting down crosslegged. As if knowing the rarity of him approaching her, she set aside the books and shifted her full attention to him. He shifted uncomfortably, nervousness finally catching up to him.

“I, uh –“ he coughed, building up his confidence once again. He took a deep breath, her patient eyes calming him. He wondered if she had developed her patience from being with Thomas through all those years. “I was just wondering –“

“Why Thomas is ignoring you?” she finished for him when he didn't. His eyes widened in surprise. He inwardly thanked the girl for being so perceptive. With a nod, he encouraged her to continue.

“Well, you see, even though Thomas seems strong and confident, he’s constantly insecure, especially when he cares a lot – which I can tell he does towards you,” she said, winking. Then her face fell considerably. “He's been beating himself up so much about you – about what he did. He felt so guilty about it. And now – I think he's having a hard time accepting that everything's right. I don't think he's realised that he's allowed to be happy.”

Newt was speechless. He pictured the happy-go-lucky Thomas, bouncing up and down when he visited his house for the first time, showing him around even though he should be resting. The Thomas that insisted on making him dinner the first time he stayed over, because he wanted everything to be perfect.

_That_ Thomas was insecure because of him. It was a strange thought. And yet, he felt his heart fluttering.

Teresa clearly noticed his flustered state as she smirked at him.

“I would give you the address, but you already know that. All there's left to do is –“ she didn't get to finish her sentence since Newt was already on his way.

She snorted at the sight of his back.

“Boys.”

*******

Newt knocked on the door rapidly, eager to see the person who thought so much of him. He tried not to lose all courage when he heard the footsteps descending the stairs. He inhaled deeply when the footsteps came closer and skidded to a halt in front of the door, anticipation running through his veins.

The door opened.

Then abruptly closed.

Newt had barely seen Thomas’ distressed face before the door slammed in his face, and he could tell by the sound of a loud thud, that Thomas was leaning against the door as if to keep him out.

Ignoring him was one thing but this? Was this really necessary?

Newt sighed heavily, putting his palms against the door and leaning against it slightly as if he could push it open.

“Tommy, I know you’re in there. Would you please open up?” If his tone was a tiny bit amused, it was only because he had never experienced something like this, and frankly, he found it a little – a lot – adorable that he had this much influence on Thomas.

He strained his ears to hear the extremely quiet ‘no’ that sounded strangely hesitant coming from the otherwise confident brunet on the other side of the door.

“Thomas,” he tried again, his tone changing. The brunet knew he was serious, when he refrained from using the nickname he’d grown so accustomed to.

He inwardly cheered victoriously when the handle turned. Thomas looked at the ground, still refusing to meet his gaze. The blond sighed, taking a step closer so he could reach out and touch the other’s cheek.

“Tommy,” he whispered gently, putting as much affection into the word as he could. It seemed to do the work, as the brunet finally looked at him for the first time in what seemed like _weeks_. His amber eyes were painfully insecure, and when Newt tried to step even closer, Thomas stopped him by putting a hand on his chest. The gesture caused a slight pain to appear in Newt’s chest, but he pushed it away, thinking this was about Thomas right now. He needed to be there for him right now.

“What’s wrong?” he managed to croak out, cursing himself for how weak he sounded even though he was trying to appear strong and comforting. Thomas noticed, of course, and his eyes went back to look at the ground, making Newt frown.

“I just – I don’t deserve –“ he started, his voice cracking and making Newt’s heart clench. Instead of letting him finish, Newt rushed forward, dragging the brunet closer so he could shut him up with a kiss.

Thomas was completely frozen, unsure of himself, so Newt merely pressed his lips to the other’s softly, not trying to deepen the kiss even though he _really_ wanted to. It was sweet and light and just enough to make Thomas quiet.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Newt said, still holding the brunet so close that he could feel his breath on his lips. Thomas gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbling up and down. He blinked, his eyelashes long and dark.

“I’m yours,” Newt said huskily, just the sound of his voice making Thomas’ mind dizzy. “I’m yours, you are mine, and I’m not letting you go, you hear me?”

The demanding tone was something new for him, but Newt didn’t feel stupid however cheesy he sounded. He had never asked for something. He had never taken something. He had always just done what other people wanted him to do. This was the first time he’d ever taken the initiative. This was the first time he wanted something this badly. And he would be damned if he had to let it go, when they both so obviously wanted this. It seemed, Thomas reached the same conclusion as he broke into one of those beautiful smiles that Newt fell in love with every single time without fail.

“I’m yours,” Thomas repeated, resting his forehead against the blond’s. “And you’re mine.”

Newt nodded slightly, his lips beginning to form a smile of their own. However, they didn’t get to before they were claimed by another pair of lips.

This kiss was different. Nothing like the other two. This kiss was demanding, but on a whole other level. This kiss was… marking. That’s the best word Newt could come up with in the moment.

Thomas held him tightly by the waist, the kiss turning rougher, harder, more heated. He then suddenly pulled away, and Newt would’ve whimpered from the loss, if Thomas hadn’t started sucking hard on his neck. This was indeed something new. The blond bit his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning when Thomas bit gently on his skin. He had been right. Thomas _was_ marking him.

It only stung a little, but the pain was immediately dulled when the brunet pressed light kisses to the same place. That was when Newt took a look around and realised, they were still standing outside the door.

“Uh, Tommy, don’t you think we should –“ he stuttered, blushing madly when realising they were practically making out _in public_. While Newt was completely set on doing that with Thomas, he was not a person to show affection in public. Thomas pulled away from his neck and looked around, realising the same thing, before smirking at him and pulling him inside the house. There, he pressed him up against the now closed door and kissed him again. It was a light kiss, teasing, Newt would say. As if daring him to follow him and demand a real kiss. Which Newt would’ve done, no doubt about that, if Thomas hadn’t pulled away and started talking.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” he asked, knowing lunch break had finished long ago. Thomas had promised his mother to take it easy the first couple of days, therefore going home after lunch break, but Newt still had regular classes to attend.

“Yes, and I would have, if _someone_ hadn’t ignored me the last couple of days. I was worried you know. I thought maybe you’d regretted…” Newt said, mumbling the last sentence while fiddling with the hem of Thomas’ shirt. He hadn’t realised how lonely he’d felt after getting used to spending all his time with Thomas. It was strange, how quickly the brunet had become such a big part of his everyday life.

Thomas’ eyes softened, a silent apology conveyed there. Before he had time to voice it, Newt pecked him lightly on his lips, not wanting to hear it. Thomas seemed to get the message and instead wrapped his arms around the blond, resting their foreheads against each other and closing his eyes.

“Well, I guess there’s no point in you going back, is there?” he said mischievously, and Newt felt the smile spreading on his face.

“Guess not.”

“Good. Then why don’t I go make some of my world famous cookies to celebrate us officially dating.” The words made Newt’s heart skip a beat, and he opened his eyes to see the ridiculously cute, hopeful expression on the brunet.

“Sounds good to me.”

He was sure, if he smiled any wider, his face would explode.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH LOOK, I'M NOT DEAD  
> I'm soo sorry I didn't update last week! I've been ill for about a week, and I really wasn't able to concentrate enough to finish the update! A thousand apologies!  
> Don't worry, you won't get cheated for the chapter, I'll upload an extra one this week to make up for the missing update!
> 
> OH AND DID YOU GUYS WATCH THE SCORCH TRIALS??? I WATCHED THE PREMIERE THE 9TH SEPTEMBER AND AAAH! I thought it was so good, and I loved the changes they made! I'm always a supporter of the directors doing their own twist on the story, and I really think Wes did a brilliant job! What do you guys think?? you're welcome to fangirl with me on tumblr if you like!
> 
> Anyhow, here it is! as usual, thank you guys so much for everything! I wish I could give you better and longer chapters, but unfortunately you're stuck with me :pp  
> and of course, comments are very much appreciated <3  
> xoxo

Newt heard Teresa before he saw her. She loudly yelled his name, and he saw her arms waving in the air. He smiled slightly despite the anxious clawing in his stomach from the sudden attention. He was getting used to it. The blond had begun to sit with Teresa during lunch since their talk. At first he had been nervous, knowing how much Teresa meant to Thomas and afraid that he’d mess it up and that she wouldn’t like him. His worries were unnecessary though, as it quickly showed that they got along quite well.

For the first time in years, Newt had someone to sit with for lunch. He had always spent his breaks alone, either in the art room or outside, even in the cold winters. It was completely new to him, actually being wanted. Not to mention that he got to hear lots of embarrassing stories about his boyfriend.

“ – and poor Chuck had eaten it all, even though it was unbearably salty! That boy adores Tom too much for his own good.” Teresa chuckled at the memory, picturing the young boy’s face lightening up whenever Thomas was around. Newt smiled in return. Even if he hadn’t met Chuck, he could tell by Teresa’s stories, and the way Thomas lit up whenever he mentioned him, that he was another important person in Thomas’ life.

It was strange, how easily he'd been let into Thomas’ life. It was almost terrifyingly easy. He was still anxious that at any minute, Teresa would scrunch her nose at him, that during dinner, Thomas’ mother would send concerned glances towards her son. He had never cared this much about someone, never been scared to lose someone. Sometimes he wasn't sure he was ready for that kind of feeling. But then Thomas would open up the door before he even knocked and greet him with that idiotic beaming smile, making Newt feel like the most important person in the world.

Right now though, Teresa was looking expectantly at him and he realised she’d asked him a question.

“I'm sorry, what?” he said, inwardly cursing himself for giving her a reason to prove his anxiety well-founded. She merely smiled at him as though it was the easiest thing to do and repeated her question.

“I asked if you wanted to come with me to Chuck’s later? Tom always makes him dinner and plays video games with him on Fridays.”

That made his insides freeze. Yes, he wanted to meet Chuck, _eventually._ But right now? When he had just met two of the most important people in Thomas’ life over such a short time span already? No. No way.

“Come on, it'll be fun!” She exclaimed, beaming at him so innocently she could go up against Thomas. _Damn these people and their bloody smiles._

It seemed he was going after all.

*******

It was one thing to gather the courage to go there, and a whole other thing to stand in front of the door, watching Teresa open it with familiarity Newt could only hope of achieving at some point in his life. He vaguely registered Teresa calling out to the two boys, and he thought about following but found his feet were stuck in the ground. The wind was cold on his neck as he lowered his head to stare at his traitorous feet. Truth be told, they probably knew better. If he went in there, he would probably fuck it all up. His luck had been unbelievable these last couple of days, and he wasn’t about to tempt fate by counting on it once more.

He didn’t even realise he’d begun shaking before two familiar hands stilled his shoulders.

“Hey.”

The voice only made him bow his head even lower, not needing to look to define the owner of the voice. A gentle hand cupped his cheek and forced him to look upwards, his eyes meeting gorgeous, shining, brown ones.

“Hey,” Thomas repeated, the corners of his lips instantly twitching upwards. Newt couldn’t help but mirror the smile, loving how the brunet could calm him simply by being around.

“Hi,” he answered, resting his own hands on Thomas’ waist. Thomas shifted slightly, putting his other hand on the nape of the blond’s neck, slowly pulling him closer. Their lips met softly, and Newt tightened his grip on Thomas’ hips. The brunet let him grip, not pulling away even when it became slightly painful, simply continuing to kiss him softly as though he knew just what Newt needed at that moment.

They pulled apart, resting their foreheads against each other, taking a silent moment with only the sound of their white breaths and the leaves fluttering in the wind.

“Better?” Thomas finally asked, breaking the silence. Newt nodded, leaning closer to bury his head in Thomas’ neck. The door was still open, and Thomas was standing outside without a jacket on, but neither of the two boys noticed, taking their time in each other’s arms. Eventually, they were drawn from their private world, Thomas pulling slightly back and coaxing Newt inside. The blond was still incredibly nervous, but with Thomas’ hand in his own, he could do anything.

The house was beautifully simple, a few pictures here and there, plants on desks or in the corners. It was everything a home should be. Newt couldn’t help the slight tug at his heart when he subconsciously compared it to his old house – not his home. That place had never been his home.

They walked into the living room where two dark heads popped up from the sofa. Hearing them enter, they turned their heads from the television where a film was playing. When Teresa recognised them, she shot Newt a smile before shifting her gaze to the television once more. The other person was a bit smaller, leaning his elbows on the back of the sofa. He had long, brown curls and wide, curious eyes.

“Is this him?” the boy asked, making Newt stop dead in his tracks, Thomas nearly falling over his own feet as he stopped as well, keeping his position right next to him. He changed the hand Newt was holding quickly to put the other hand at the blond’s lower back, his thumb moving in soothing circles. Newt swallowed a lump in his throat, scolding himself for feeling _intimidated_ by a _boy_.

“Yeah. Chuck this is Newt – Newt, Chuck.” Thomas caught his eye, giving him a quick wink while gesturing between the two. The boy – Chuck – gave what Newt could only describe as an excited yelp, jumping off the couch and practically running to stand in front of Newt with incredible speed. The blond blinked.

Chuck stood restless on his feet, his hands twitching by his side, his eyes wide and eager.

“Uh – Hi” Newt said hesitantly, reluctantly pulling his hand away from Thomas’ to offer it to the boy, unsure of how to greet the young person. His insecurity was unnecessary though, as by his greeting Chuck threw his arms around Newt shoulders, pulling him down slightly since he was about a head shorter. Newt shot the brunet next to him an unsure look, but receiving only an encouraging smile, he slowly returned the hug.

It was a bit awkward from his side, as he still wasn’t used to the whole concept of hugging, especially when it wasn’t a certain brunet who simply seemed to _fit_ in his arms. Chuck didn’t seem to mind at all, only letting go when Teresa asked him to join her again.

With the two of them once again positioned on the sofa, their backs towards him, Newt could breathe again. He felt fingers carding through his hair by his ear and turned his head slightly. The adorning look greeting him took his breath away once more. Thomas’ eyes were filled with such adoration, admiration, happiness. If Newt had more experience in this, he’d see love. But he didn’t. Not yet.

Some day, he’d be able to decipher the emotion humans killed for. Some day.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya guys!  
> Here's another chapter for you amazing people! (and also some happiness before the storm, hehe)  
> Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I personally loved writing it (despite my terrible skills)  
> But yeah, as always, thank you guys so much for every comment, kudo, and view!  
> Feedback is very much appreciated C:  
> xoxo

“Left foot on red.” A series of laughter erupted when Thomas failed to follow the instructions and fell on his back, stumbling over his own feet.

“I win!” Chuck exclaimed, excitedly putting his hands in the air. Newt was sitting in an armchair, watching the two boys (Thomas definitely fit the definition) playing around. Beside him, Teresa was giggling, the spinning plate for the game in her lap.

“Hey Thomas,” Chuck gasped, out of breath from their tumbling around. Thomas pulled back, letting the smaller boy out of his playful grip, giving a small nod to indicate he was listening.

“What’re we having for dinner?” Chuck asked, tilting his head slightly. The brunet chuckled, ruffling the boy’s long curls fondly, understanding the hint.

“I don’t know. Let’s go see what you have in the fridge, yeah?” The boy grinned, already on his way to the kitchen, loving when the older boy let him help with cooking.

Thomas stood to walk after him, going past Newt and touching his hand in the progress, winking at the blond. Chuck turned the radio on, music immediately erupting and the two of them started singing along.

“I’ve never seen him this happy for a long while,” Teresa said from his right, making him turn his head towards her and away from the room that Thomas had just entered. Her words caught up to him and he felt a blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears. He looked back to the brunet, adoring how he swayed his hips following the song’s rhythm. Smiling, he looked back to Teresa who responded with one of her own.

“I’ll go see if they need any help. You just stay here,” she said, patting him on the knee as she stood and made her way out to the kitchen. She said a couple of words he couldn’t hear over the music and the distance. Chuck nodded happily, letting her take vegetable duty and ran off somewhere. Newt debated whether to go help but decided against it since Teresa had told him not to. Instead, he found his backpack and rummaged through it, trying to find some homework he could do. Realising most of his books were at home, he dropped it, trying to think of another thing to do. When he looked up again, he saw that Chuck had returned and was sitting at the coffee table with a piece of paper and some pencils. Curious, he got up and stood behind the boy to look over his shoulder.

The drawing wasn’t bad at all. Actually it was quite good. It pictured a small dog, its tongue hanging out of its mouth. Chuck kept drawing the mouth over and over again, unsatisfied, erasing rapidly every time he made a mistake. Newt chuckled at how much he resembled himself. At the sound, the boy turned around, spotting Newt, making him freeze on the spot. He was about to apologise for looking, knowing how guarded he was about his own art but Chuck merely beamed at him.

“Newt! Thomas says you’re an amazing artist! Can you help me, please? I keep doing this part wrong!” he said and scooted over a bit to make room for the blond, who just blankly stared at the spot. Usually, no one knew that he drew, so no one had ever asked him for advice. It’s not like he’d asked to see one of his drawings, so surely it wouldn’t hurt to just… Deciding for it, he placed himself next to the brunet. The smile he got was proof enough that it was the right decision.

“Right, so, what part are you having trouble with?” Newt asked though he had seen the boy erase the same lines over and over again.

“I don’t know how to draw the teeth with the tongue covering some of them,” he answered, pointing to the blank spot where the mouth had been. Newt shifted closer, taking the pencil offered to him and started making gentle lines.

“If you do like this, it’ll be easier to imagine how the tongue should lie.” He made a few more lines so Chuck could see his point, and then offered the pencil back so he could try it on his own. Chuck stuck his tongue out in concentration and tried to copy the lines, shooting Newt yet another wide smile when he was satisfied with the outcome. Newt stayed in his seat, answering Chuck’s questions and occasionally drawing soft lines when the younger boy needed assistance. He didn’t realise how long they’d sat there until Thomas called them for dinner. Chuck thanked him for the help before rushing to the kitchen, urging Newt to come with him. The blond got up from his seat, glancing at the drawing, which had turned out pretty good, and started going towards the kitchen. The others were already sitting around the table, so he walked to the free spot next to Thomas and sat down as well. Seeing him, Thomas smiled and leaned closer so Newt could feel his breath on his ear.

“Thank you for being so great,” he whispered, pecking his cheek before pulling back. It was such a subtle move; Newt couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“I saw you helping Chuck, even though I know how you feel about your art,” he said, lowering his voice at the last part, his voice growing slightly regretful. Newt’s heart jumped at the reminder that Thomas had actually seen some of his art, but he felt strangely okay about it.

“Oh,” he simply replied, glad to have an excuse to be distracted when Teresa handed him the food. When both he and Thomas had taken their share, he felt a hand on his own that rested on his knee, and he turned it around to intertwine their fingers. Good thing he was left-handed.

*******

The dim light from the television was the only source of light in the living room. The sun had descended hours ago, and it was calmingly quiet after the hectic day. Thomas and Newt sat on the sofa, the small curly brunet squeezed in between them, breathing softly. Teresa had gone home about an hour ago, saying she had a physics report due Monday, but Thomas knew she secretly wanted to give the couple some time alone.

Seeing that Chuck was sleeping soundly, he got up from his spot and lifted the smaller figure, carrying him to his room. Newt’s heart couldn’t help but leap at the sight of Thomas taking such great care of the younger boy, wondering for the umpteenth time what he had ever done to deserve such a caring boyfriend. He immediately shook the thought away, knowing if he started to dwell on it, things would only get complicated. Instead, he trusted Thomas’ feelings, even if he sometimes had a hard time believing that, he found that it worked nevertheless.

When Thomas came back, he didn’t sit down at the previous spot, but instead laid down with his feet dangling off the sofa and resting his head in Newt’s lap. At first, the blond was surprised at the sudden contact, but he quickly calmed, letting his fingers card through the brunet’s hair. In reply, Thomas hummed appreciatively, leaning in to the touch before returning his eyes to the screen. Newt, however, found that he couldn’t care less about the events unfolding in the film. Instead, he let his gaze sweep over every feature on Thomas’ face and neck, even daring to touch them gently, his fingers lightly grazing his pale skin. The touch was ghostly, almost ticklish, and at first, Thomas thought it was only his imagination. When Newt’s fingers gently caressed his cheek, his thumb brushing the brunet’s bottom lip, Thomas turned his head slowly, as if he was afraid that moving would make the blond retreat. He didn’t, however, and instead let his hand rest under the brunet’s chin, his thumb continuously caressing the brunet’s lips.

Meeting the chocolate brown eyes, Newt didn’t even question himself before slowly leaning downwards, brushing his lips lightly over Thomas’. He blew softly, teasingly, their lips only a hair’s width from each other.

Thomas grunted, leaning forward as much as he could without leaving his place on Newt’s lap, Newt backing away slightly to maintain the distance, smiling at the small frustrated outburst. Once more, Thomas tried to lean forward, but this time he clasped his hand around the blond’s neck, keeping him in place and making sure he wasn’t able to draw back. Newt quickly caved when their lips met, shifting to a more comfortable position on top of the brunet, pressing him down. Thomas greedily pulled him closer, pulling him down by the waist and connecting them by their hips. At the contact, Newt whimpered quietly, not able to keep quiet, which only made Thomas pull even more, eager to hear more of him. It didn’t take long for the session to turn heaty, both of the boys gasping for air, breathing heavily, both because of their excitement and because of their shared heat. They were as close as physically possible, but it wasn’t enough.

Thomas’ hands roamed all over the blond’s body, exploring. When his hand reached a tender spot, he swallowed the moan erupting from above him, deliberately running his hands over the spot, loving the way the blond began to writhe above him. Thomas gripped harder, too distracted to worry about bruising Newt. His fingers were itching for _more_ , his skin burning from the other’s touch, his lip bruised and swollen, his breath ragged, and his heart beating so fast, he felt like it would burst through his ribcage. When the desire became too much for him, Thomas flipped them over, taking things in his own hands – Literally. Now being on top, he had much better access to the blond’s body, able to see the things he could only feel and imagine before – something currently pressed up against the side of his thigh. He pulled away to look at the beauty beneath him, not missing the flushed look and the red, puffy lips. When he takes too long for Newt’s liking, the blond tries to pull him back. Thomas gives him a short, soft kiss before moving to his neck. Newt whimpers, burying his hands in the brunet’s hair and arching his next to grant him better access. Thomas eagerly takes advantage of that, occasionally biting and sucking spots, only satisfied when he sees colour forming. He goes even further down and grunts when he meets the fabric of Newt’s shirt, already beginning to pull it off. Newt shivers as Thomas’ hands meet the skin under the shirt, but forces himself to pull at the other’s wrists.

“Tommy,” he says, trying to sound stern but it comes out more as a moan. Said person grunts in reply, moving his hands to continue his mission of freeing the blond of the shirt.

“Tommy, wait.” Newt is proud of how he manages to sound firm, causing the brunet to finally pull back and look at the blond with an adorable frown. Newt couldn’t help the fond smile spreading on his face, and he reached out to cup the brunet’s cheek, melting at the way he leaned in to the touch.

“Not that I don’t want to continue this – bloody hell I can’t believe I’m even stopping it – but I don’t think we should do this, uh, _here_.” At Thomas’ confused frown, Newt sighed.

“ _Here_ , Tommy. As in on a couch – your _neighbour’s_ couch. With _your neighbour_ sleeping upstairs. Your _12 year old neighbour_ ,” Newt said, emphasising exaggeratingly to make him realise. It seemed to work, since Thomas’ eyes widened and he looked around as if only realising now where they were. He then groaned, collapsing on to Newt – which, mind you, did _nothing_ to calm him down – burying his face in the crook of the blond’s neck.

“Uh –“ Newt uttered, shifting under the weight, trying to hide a certain body part that seemed to not understand the concept of calming down. Thomas hummed against his neck, sending vibrations through him, and nuzzled it before pulling away with a heavy sigh. Newt wanted to whine at the loss of contact, but forced himself to keep quiet since it was technically his own fault. _Damn_ him and his responsible tendencies. It wasn’t long, though, before he was pulled up against the other, Thomas’ arm pulling him by the waist. Sighing happily, he rested his head on the brunet’s shoulder accepting the cuddle. They watched the film for a while, before Newt felt his eyelids dropped.

Even with his neck at a weird angle, he fell asleep more comfortable than ever.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayo!  
> I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit confusing - I rushed it a bit tbh since I have a big report to write but I didn't want to not update.  
> I'm not really sure if I like this chapter or not... I'll let you guys be the judge of that!  
> (also no, this is not the storm. you'll know when it hits, trust me c; )  
> thank you as always, you guys are amazing!  
> xoxo  
> EDIT: I added some more, since I wasn't really satisfied with this, and I found some more time to finish it today :-)

The sunlight easily made its way to his eyelids, no obstacle in its way, rousing him from his deep sleep. Newt’s eyes fluttered open, squinting against the bright light. It took him a few seconds to realise where he was. His head was pillowed by a firm chest, strong arms loosely gripping his waist. Thomas’ lips were slightly parted as he breathed slowly. The sunlight made his skin even paler, the adorning moles even more noticeable than usual. He looked beautiful. Newt was torn between kissing him and watching him. He was just about to decide on the former, when a sound from the kitchen surprised him, causing him to fall off the couch. This, of course, woke the sleeping brunet, who groggily rubbed his eyes and sat up to see what the commotion was about. A man walked out of the kitchen, stopping by the sofa where the two boys had slept for the night. The man gave a friendly smile, which Thomas mirrored.

“I see you boys are finally up; there’s breakfast in the kitchen if you like,” he said, and then looked down at Newt, who was still sitting awkwardly on the floor, giving him a smile before walking back to the kitchen.

_What just happened?_

The confusedness must’ve shown on his face, because when he looked at Thomas for answers, he simply laughed.

“That was Chuck’s father. I didn’t even hear them get home,” he explained, stretching his limbs.

_His **father**?! _ Newt thought. _How is he so calm about all of this?_ They had been lying on their couch, _sleeping together_ , _cuddling_ , and Thomas didn’t seem the least affected by this. How? How was that possible? Just the thought that someone, _a stranger_ , had seen them that intimate made Newt’s stomach twist and turn, and he fought to swallow the vile building in his throat. He suddenly felt very warm, itching to get outside and away from this. Which was exactly what he did. He stood up abruptly, remembering to mumble a quiet ‘I’ll see you later’ before practically running out of the door.

His whole body was shaking, but he forced himself to walk, one foot after the other, even though they were weak and he felt like he’d collapse any second. While Thomas, for some reason, was perfectly fine with Chuck’s parents having seen them lie together, Newt was most definitely not. The whole being intimate thing was all very new to him, and he was nowhere near the point where he was comfortable being intimate in front of others. Hell, they hadn’t even _held hands_ in front of _Teresa._ At least not in a way where it was visible. His breathing became ragged, and even though he took deep breaths, he felt as though he was lacking oxygen. His heart beat was way too fast. Tears started gathering in the corners of his eyes, and he angrily swept them away. He stopped when he had turned away from Chuck’s street, certain no one could see him there, forcing himself to take deep breaths. His hands rubbed at his numb face, the cold finally getting to him. It was eerily quiet outside, the only sound being his frantic breathing and the loud thumping of his rapid heartbeat.

A hand on his shoulder nearly made him cry out loud, and he felt his heart thump loudly in his chest. He turned around quickly, taking a surprised step back, preparing himself to run, until he saw the face of the owner.

Thomas’ face was red, his breathing uneven, and Newt realised he must’ve run after him. He only wore the t-shirt he had slept in, and now that he stood still, the goose bumps were visible on his bare skin.

“Newt, what the hell?” Thomas said when he finally caught his breath, his eyebrows furrowing. It took a few seconds to realise that the brunet was angry. At the realisation, Newt squinted his eyes, unsure how to react. It seemed his lack of answer only riled the brunet up more.

“What’re you doing? Why are you running from me? Was it because of last night?” Thomas breathed heavily, and Newt suspected the red spots on his face weren’t only from the cold.

“I can’t do this, Tommy,” he finally admitted, unsure how to voice his insecurities around others. Even if he had opened up to Thomas more than he’d open up to anyone before, it was still strange and difficult for him to talk about his insecurities, and he was constantly afraid that he would shun him for his social awkwardness. Maybe it was normal for other couples to be intimate in public; now that he thought about it, it probably was with all the kissing and whatnot happening in the hallways at the school. He wasn’t sure if Thomas wanted to be the standard, ‘normal’ kind of couple, and Newt tried really hard to meet the standards; but he still had his boundaries. This was one of them. “It’s – I’m no good at this, you know? I’m not like you. I don’t know how to act.” Newt shifted under the other’s gaze, unsure if Thomas would be angry with him for being that way. It didn’t help when the brunet froze on the spot. A couple of agonisingly silent minutes went by with Newt fidgeting nervously and Thomas staring blankly at him.

“You – what?” the brunet muttered, finding his voice even though it was painfully quiet. Newt’s heart clenched, panic rising in him.

“I – it’s just, you know, all happening so fast, and I just – I can’t really do that right now,” he rambled, his heart beating incredibly fast. Was it really such a big deal? Did couples have to be intimate around others? Was that a rule that he had missed in his lack of personal experience? It seemed to be a big deal for Thomas at least.

“I just – I need some time, I guess,” Newt tried, thinking he could make up for it if he promised to do his best to try, thinking it’d help. It had the exact opposite effect. Thomas flinched as if he had slapped him and his face fell, disbelief and heartbreak clear in his expression. Newt didn’t understand. So he did what he always did: he walked away.

Thomas stood outside in the cold, watching the retreating back of the blond until he wasn’t visible anymore.

*******

Newt lay in his bed, playing the events of the morning over and over in his head. Why had Thomas looked so betrayed? Was it really that big of a deal? He didn’t usually care that much for Newt’s inexperience, but maybe that had crossed his line of understanding. Newt just didn’t understand _why_. The more he thought about it, the more his feelings changed. At first he was sad that Thomas had been angry, confused as to _why_ he had been so. But then he changed. Then _he_ became angry.

Thomas had no right to be angry with him; he had told him himself that he didn’t want to pressure Newt into something he didn’t want to do. Newt had admitted to feeling insecure, and Thomas had just been angry with him.

Then his thoughts started to go a bit further back to the night before. A new emotion settled in his gut. Disappointment. Had Thomas been angry because of last night? Because Newt hadn’t wanted to go any further? Was that it? If so, was Thomas only after that one thing? Did he just want to lure Newt in and take advantage of him; take pride in being the first? Was it after all just some sick joke about getting inside his head?

Newt turned on his side in the bed, shaking his head violently. He felt guilty for thinking like that but his insecurities were flaring up with Thomas being angry with him. He didn’t know what to think or what to believe.

Needless to say, he didn’t get much sleep that night.

*******

Newt wasn’t the only one lying restless that night.

The blond’s words played on repeat in Thomas’ head.

_I can’t really do that right now. I need some time._

Time. Wasn’t that what people used to say when they broke up? Thomas froze. _Breaking up. Is that what he want?_ But what did he do? Why the sudden breakoff? What had happened?

He tried to think of anything being different this week, but couldn’t remember anything. Actually, they had been better than ever, they had even almost – wait. Was that it? Was it because of last night? Thomas stared at his ceiling, finally realising. Had he gone too far that night? Had it scared him? Had he pushed him too much? He had thought that the blond had enjoyed it as much as he had, but maybe he was regretting it. Maybe he felt like Thomas was taking advantage of him. Was that why?

If that was so, he needed to explain. He needed to make Newt understand that he would keep to himself if that would make him happy. He’d do anything.

They couldn’t break up. Not now. Not now that he finally found happiness. Not now that his every thought wasn’t clouded, not now that he finally had a purpose. Not now that he had found someone who made him forget.

No, they couldn’t break up.

He’d go there tomorrow and talk it out. Whatever it was, they’d figure it out.

He wouldn’t let him go that easily.

*******

The first thing Newt noticed in the morning was his phone missing. He must've forgotten it in his rush yesterday. Climbing out of his bed, stretching his sore limbs, he gathered his clothes from yesterday, too tired to find anything new to put on.

Sonya wasn’t home but she had left a note on the table saying she'd be back the next day; she was on some kind of business trip. Being a journalist, she often had to take day trips, sometimes longer, in order to get the real story. She was thorough like that. Newt didn't mind at all; actually, he quite liked being home alone once in a while, with no disturbances. He grabbed some juice from the fridge, not really feeling like making proper breakfast. Walking to the bathroom, the sound of a fist against wood suddenly alarmed him. Frowning, he walked to the front door.

Thomas stood on the other side of the door with flushed cheeks, his hand raised as though he was just about to knock again. When he saw the blond, he lowered his hand, his otherwise determined look turning hesitant.

“Tommy? What're you –“

“Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I just – I don't want to lose you too,” Thomas said, fidgeting with the seam of his jacket. Newt felt his heart leap hopefully.

“Is this about last night?” he asked cautiously, biting his lip in anticipation. Instead of answering, the brunet simply nodded.

“So you're not - you're not mad about it?” This made Thomas look up again.

“About – you mean, you still need time?” Thomas frowned, his expression turning guarded. Newt's breath hitched.

“Uh, yeah, I mean, I can try, but I don't think it's fair to –“

“Damn it Newt, make up your mind!” Thomas finally snapped, raising his voice and clenching his hands. Newt flinched back.

“I – I don't – what?” To say Newt was confused was a major understatement. Thomas breathed heavily, continuously clenching and unclenching his hands.

“Tommy what –“ Newt tried again, but couldn't find the words, so instead he reached out, gently letting his fingers brush against Thomas’ shoulders. That seemed to get a reaction. Thomas’ head snapped up so fast Newt was afraid he'd get whiplash. His expression made Newt's heart clench painfully. There were tears in his eyes and Newt could tell he was trying his hardest to not let them fall. Forgetting his insecurities for a moment, Newt placed his hands on the sides of Thomas’ face, brushing his thumb gently over his cheeks. He preened inwardly when Thomas leaned against his touch.

“I don't want to lose you,” Thomas whispered so quietly, Newt had to take a step closer to hear it.

“What're you talking about? You're not going to lose me. Not unless you want to,” Newt responded, his voice low. They were standing so close Newt could practically feel the frown forming on the other’s face.

“But you – then why did you break up with me?” This made Newt freeze. Break up? When had he ever given the indication that he wanted to break up? If anything, Thomas was the one who…

Thinking back, he realised how his words might have been wrongly interpreted.

“Oh god. Oh god, Tommy, I'm so sorry.” Ignoring how the brunet seemed to freeze at his words, he pulled him into a tight hug. “I'm so stupid. Of course you'd misunderstand that.”

Frowning, Thomas pushed the blond away slightly.

“What do you mean?” Newt nearly laughed at the confused tone. Instead, he grabbed the sides of Thomas’ face again and leaned in to kiss him quickly. Thomas didn't respond, his mind working to figure out what was going on.

“I don't want to break up with you,” Newt finally cleared, and the relief in Thomas’ eyes was enough to make him kiss him again. “I meant that I need time to get used to – this,” he continued, gesturing to the small distance between them. “I freaked out when I realised that other people had seen us _lie_ together, and I just – well, I panicked.”

Realisation showed in the brunet’s eyes and Newt smiled even wider. Thomas sighed heavily before resting his head on the blond’s shoulder. He pulled him closer and turned his head to nuzzle the blond’s neck, causing Newt to blush.

“Uh, Tommy,” he uttered, realising they were still standing in the hallway, clear for everyone to see. The brunet responded by hugging him closer and then walking both of them inside the apartment, closing the door behind them.

“Don't scare me like that ever again,” Thomas muttered against the blond’s Newt, the vibrations going through his body like a shiver. Newt’s eyes softened, and he squeezed the brunet back.

“Sorry.” When Thomas pulled away it was only for a short moment before he leaned forward until their noses touched. Then he hesitated.

“Is it – is it only around other people or is it –“ Thomas started but Newt cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Yeah, it doesn't matter when we're alone. I trust you.” That seemed to give the confidence Thomas needed, and soon Newt was pressed up against the door with Thomas’ hot lips on his, then on his neck, and his hands everywhere.

“Your aunt isn't home, is she?” Thomas muttered against Newt’s neck, sucking lightly and making Newt gasp. He really didn't want to think about his aunt at that moment.

“N-no. She won't be home until tomorrow.”

Thomas pulled back, causing Newt to whine at the loss of contact. However, the wide grin Thomas gave him was enough compensation.

“Perfect.”

That was all the warning he got before Thomas started running his hands under his shirt. He would've gasped at the skin to skin contact if Thomas’ lips weren't on his at that moment.

Needless to say, Thomas spent the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (also if any of you have any one shot prompts, feel free to message me on tumblr 'cause I really feel like writing one, I just don't have any inspiration for one c: )


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you didn't notice, I updated the last chapter so now it ends in Newt's apartment c: ok onwards)  
> Sorry for the delay! But here it is c: quite long actually (at least in comparison to some of the other chapters)  
> Hope you'll enjoy!!!  
> Feed me ^u^  
> xoxo

It had been a hectic couple of weeks. At first, it had seemed normal, even as Thomas began to pull back and isolate himself. It was understandable and happened sometimes with the lack of time for grieving; though this time, as Teresa had discovered later, it had been because of his obsession with a certain book. Then things had turned even more dramatic with all the misunderstandings, the accident, even more misunderstandings.

Walking down the hallway with Thomas by her side on their way to class, she figured it was all worth it. The tiny smile playing on his lips gave his thoughts away. Then the blond appeared in their vision and his whole being seemed to brighten. Teresa watched as the two of them shared a look and immediately felt like she was intruding their intimate moment. They just looked at each other with such ease, as if they knew something, _shared_ something, no one else did.

It was only later, when she was pairing up with Thomas that she discovered why.

“You _did it?!_ ” she whisper-shouted, apparently not as subtle as she would have liked, earning a few glances from the students around them. Thomas immediately hushed her, suddenly very interested in his notebook.

“You actually _did it?_ With _Newt?!_ ” she repeated, lowing her voice considerably. Thomas sighed, realising they wouldn't get any work done.

“ _Yes_. Anything wrong with that?” he practically growled, annoyed by the disbelief in her tone.

“Nothing, it's just – this is Newt we’re talking about,” she replied. Thomas squinted his eyes.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” He glared at her, getting defensive. Teresa merely rolled her eyes at him.

“Oh you know, Newt, who has trust issues and isn't used to social interference. The one that still can't believe he has friends to sit with at lunch. That Newt.” Her words made her remember the surprised look in Newt’s face every time she invited him to lunch or waved him over. The cautious way he looked at her, as if she would tell him off at any moment. It made her heart clench. No one deserved to feel like that. Especially not Newt.

Thomas seemed to have similar thoughts, his gaze turned downwards. Knowing the brunet had already spent too much time thinking about this, she hurriedly adverted the attention.

“How was it then?” she said with a wink, smirking at the obvious blush spreading on his neck.

“Teresa!” he exclaimed, looking around the room even though everyone else were submerged in the work they had to do.

“Oh, come on, Tom! It’s not like I want to hear every detail; really, please don’t. I just want to know the general feeling. Was it good? Quick? Long? Did you cuddle afterwards?” she said, leaning closer and pushing their books away to get the brunet to focus solely on her. Thomas bit his lip, the blush only increasing as he thought back to the day before. His eyes turned soft and a small smile played on his lips.

“It was – good. Not amazing, you know, but I don’t think anyone’s first time ever is. But it was… yeah, I definitely won’t mind doing that again,” he replied in a soft voice, his smile widening. Then he met her eye, saw the smug look on her face, and instantly coughed awkwardly as if she had caught him in the act; which she had… once… she shivered at the memory.

“Then we just, uh, fell asleep next to each other, and _yes_ there might have been some cuddling; a lot of cuddling,” he coughed again, looking away from her. “And we spent the weekend together.” He shrugged as if that wasn’t a major step for the two of them. Teresa inwardly melted at the happy look on his face.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am for you, Tom,” she said genuinely, touching his hand briefly. He mirrored her smile, giving her hand a squeeze, before letting go.

Then the teacher gave them a pointed look and both of them went back to the assignment, giving each other knowing looks.

*******

The two of them were discussing their previous lesson, when the blond showed up at their lunch table. Thomas immediately shifted his gaze from her to Newt, beaming with happiness as he settled down next to him. Teresa sat opposite of the couple, watching their subtle exchanges of touches. She had heard about Newt’s insecurities about public display of affection, but even so, neither Thomas nor Newt wanted to ‘come out’ in school, both because, well, frankly it was none of their business, and because Thomas already knew the risks too well.

Even as her best friend’s attention was stolen away and she was left with no one to speak with, she couldn’t feel anything but happy when watching the couple. They already didn’t see each other that often in school, with Newt being a year older than them and therefore not having any classes with either of them, so lunch was really the only time to meet. Thomas was often busy in the afternoons, either with track practice or work, which also didn’t leave them much time to be together and even less time for Teresa to have some quality time with her best friend. However, she couldn’t feel jealous or angry. Not when Thomas wore that look.

The two boys looked at each other with attention, listening intently while the other was talking, exchanging smiles and laughs. They looked so … comfortable with each other. As though they had known each other for years and not weeks. But then again, they had already been through quite a lot in the little time they had known each other, so they were bound to have seen some of the more vulnerable sides of each other.

They looked so content just being with each other.

As she watched them, Teresa could only hope she’d someday meet someone who’d look at her like Thomas looked at Newt.

*******

Later, when she was walking down the hallway by herself, she accidentally walked into someone just exiting a classroom.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said quickly when the other person dropped a bunch of papers on the ground. The boy she had walked into glared at her before beginning to collect his papers. Slightly taken aback by his annoyed look, she kneeled down to help him. When they had collected all of it and she was about to hand it back, she got a better look at the boy. He was tall, dark-skinned, short-cropped hair, and seemed somewhat familiar. It was only when she looked at the papers with ‘student council agenda’ written on it that she realised.

“Oh! You must be Alby!” she exclaimed, smiling at the other. His scowl stayed. Her smile faltered but she didn’t budge. “Newt has told me much about you.” This got the other’s attention and his expression turned shocked, then guarded. He eyed her warily while accepting the papers she was handing him.

“You know Newt?” he asked, his tone unconvinced, which to be fair was to be expected, since Newt wasn’t really the associating type.

“Yeah, considering he’s dating my best friend, I see him a lot. We meet at lunch and such,” she answered easily, though her answer only made his frown go even deeper.

“Dating?” he questioned, crossing his arms and basically looking even more sullen. At this, her smile fell completely.

“Y- You didn’t? Oh. Uh. Well, I’ll just be taking my leave then,” she chuckled nervously, “forget I ever said anything. It was nice to meet you!”

Before she could sprint away, however, a hand clasped around her wrist, forcing her to stay. She faced the scowl once more.

“Explain,” he said simply, his eyes squinting at her as if trying to see if she was lying. She shrugged him off, rubbing her arm nervously.

“I really think you should ask Newt yourself; it’s not really my place to say. I’m sorry, I thought you already knew, considering you’re the only one Newt ever –“ her sentence faded though the implication was clear to both. He nodded curtly at her, which she took as her que to leave.

*******

Newt stood hidden behind a pillar, occasionally peeking behind it to see the track field where his boyfriend was currently running. He was supposed to sit on the seats surrounding the field but as soon as he saw the track team, he had hidden himself. It wasn’t that he was ashamed – okay, maybe he was a little ashamed – but it was strange seeing the people he used to somewhat get along with before his sudden disappearance. What would they think? Wouldn’t they be angry with him? And what if they saw him with Thomas? Would they annoy him with questions until he suddenly snapped? What would happen then?

He startled suddenly when the signal gun went off and peaked around the pillar to see the team racing. Thomas didn’t have a great start, so he lacked behind but he quickly caught up. It was strange to see the brunet so focused, so fixated. Normally, his attention span was that of a sparrow but now it seemed like he was in his own world. He raced to the finish line, the others coming in just after him. It wasn’t that he had a great leap with his slow start but he still managed to get first. Having watched the race intently, he hadn’t noticed he’d walked out of his hiding spot, now visible for all to see. Thinking this was as good time as any, he sat himself on the first row in the corner, still looking at the smiling Thomas – and sweating, gosh, how did he manage to look that attractive even enveloped in sweat – talking to the team captain, Minho.

He felt his heart clench at the sight of the friendly chat. Of all the things he’d had to give up, Minho was one of the things he missed; the cocky Asian had been, what Newt today realised, a friend, always sticking up for him and helping him even without knowing it. Whenever Newt had had a bad day, the captain would take one look at him and train with him until they both nearly passed out from exhaustion so he wouldn’t be alone. Even if Newt never said a lot of words, Minho would mutter comments under his breath just loud enough for the blond to hear, making his lips twitch upwards.

Deep in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that the brunet had spotted him and was now waving at him, making Minho turn his head in his direction. Newt froze, debating whether he could run, when the Asian spotted him. However, instead of the scowl he was expecting, Minho gave him a smile, raising his hand to wave as well. Newt answered with his own little wave before realising the two boys were making their way towards him. Noticing the rest of the team seemed to head towards the changing rooms, he figured practice was over.

“Hey Newt!” Thomas beamed at him, leaning slightly forward before remembering where they were and shot a glance over his shoulder where the team captain was standing. Instead, he hopped down next to him, casually leaning his hand behind the blond so he could subtly let his thumb rub circles on his back. Newt shuddered slightly at the contact, smiling at the brunet. When he looked up, he saw a confused frown on Minho’s face, realising the boy probably hadn’t ever seen him smile properly. The thought made heat creep up his neck to his face.

“Newt,” Minho finally said, breaking the silence. “It’s nice to see you again, shank. And not just from afar.” Minho winked at him, a grin widening on his face. Newt released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be victims to your endless flirting, Minho,” he replied, happy to fall right back into their banter. Minho’s smile widened slightly, his way of showing, that he was just as relieved. Thomas looked between them, smiling.

“I’ll go shower, I’ll be right back,” he said, hurrying off before either Newt or Minho could get the chance to stop him. Newt watched him go, stilling as he realised he was alone with Minho.

“So,” Minho said, dragging the blond’s attention to him. “Thomas, huh?” Newt felt his body flinch, his arms instantly pulling closer to his chest in a defensive position.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes guarded by the sudden question. Minho shrugged.

“You two are a thing, aren’t you?” he asked casually, not seeing or ignoring the way Newt nearly jumped out of his seat. He felt the memories cloud his brain, his limbs shivering, his throat suddenly completely clogged. Minho glanced at him, noticing the whitened face and the nervously twitching limbs. He sighed, carefully taking a seat next to the blond as to not startle him even more.

“Hey,” he said uncharacteristically gently, “Don’t worry, he didn’t tell me. It’s pretty obvious from the way you two look at each other though.” When the blond didn’t calm down, he continued. “Newt, it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.” This seemed to finally get the blond to move as he slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees, breathing deeply.

“I thought –“ Newt tried, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, turning his head to look at the other. “Sorry, I didn’t mean – I mean, it’s not because I think you –“ he cleared his throat again, still having difficulties speaking with the knot in his stomach. Minho put a comforting hand on his shoulder, looking strangely understanding.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just saying, you two seem good together; I’ve never seen neither of you this happy. Though I might hit Thomas over the head a couple of times if he keeps spacing out at training.” Despite everything, this made the blond chuckle. He knew too well how the brunet could get lost in his mind completely unaware of his surroundings.

Thomas came back after a little while, his hair still damp from the shower, and his backpack slung over his shoulder. He smiled at the sight of the two of them talking casually together, glad that Newt didn’t look uncomfortable or anxious at that moment. Minho said his goodbyes letting the couple be alone, and they started walking home together, their hands discreetly brushing as they walked.

Newt had really been surprised by Minho’s ease. He wasn’t used to people accepting his difference that easily and quickly. Then again, he didn’t have that much experience. Even so, he knew it was still uncommon to ‘come out’ these days, so for Minho to figure out his relationship with Thomas _and_ not making a big deal out of it was unexpected but very relieving.

It somehow gave him courage.

He might even tell someone. He probably should, now that he thought about it. He felt slightly guilty, remembering that Alby had no idea what he had been doing the past couple of weeks. They hadn’t really talked much but that was usual for them. Still, he felt as if he needed to explain himself.

When his phone lit up with his friend’s name, he figured it was what some people believed to be a sign. Sighing, he pressed ‘answer’. Might as well get it over with before his courage faded.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy look, a new chapter!  
> I'm sorry I haven't updated regularly, and I'm afraid to say I'm not sure I'll be able to :c  
> It'll probably be about 7-14 days between each update on the usual day (Sunday for me)  
> But yeah, things are starting to happen again uuuuh, I'm so excited for your reaction c:  
> As always, thanks for the support and lovely comments, it always warms my heart  
> xoxo

Newt was lying in his bed, one arm thrown over his face. His phone was beside him, the screen occasionally lightening up. He groaned when it vibrated, burying his face in his pillow even deeper. After his conversation with Alby, he didn’t really feel like talking to anyone.

It’s not that it went _bad_. It’s just that, well… it didn’t exactly went well.

He had called him when he got home, having noticed the few, rare texts he’d received. It should’ve been a warning when Alby picked up after the first tone; he never picked up that quickly. Even if he hadn’t noticed, just the fact that Newt was leading the conversation was surprising and completely new. When he had finally gotten to the part of telling Alby about the recent events in his life, he had to ask several times in order to make sure the other was still listening. After everything had been said, he was met with silence, which did little to calm his nerves. It was a nerve-wracking couple of minutes before Alby had finally broken the silence, saying he hadn't expected it to be true. Apparently, he hadn't believed Newt to be capable of that kind of relationship.

Needless to say, they had both said some things resulting in Newt hanging up on him and now lying in his bed, sadness overwhelming him.

He'd thought that Alby would be supportive. But then again, as he thought about it, the two of the weren't really that close. They had exchanged a few words once in a while, and Alby knew about his ‘incident’, as the student council president referred to it, but he had known from the administration and not because Newt had told him. Now that he thought about it, they weren't exactly what he would now define as a friend. The old Newt would, but only because he didn't know any better and didn't expect anything else. Now he knew what it meant to trust someone, to share ones insecurities and problems but also set aside ones own needs and put someone above everything else.

Still, the only friend he’d had for about three years having such little faith in him was bound to affect him in some way. Which is why he had thrown himself on his bed and not moved since he came back from school.

He huffed into his pillow, trying not to think about how betrayed he felt. It was stupid, really. Neither of them had even seen the other’s house. So why did he feel so miserable?

He heard a knock on the door and assumed it was his aunt checking up on him, since he hadn’t said a word to her all night. The door opened, footsteps sounding to his bed until the mattress dipped slightly with the new weight next to him. A hand started carding through his hair, but the hand was bigger than that of his hand. He turned his head slightly, his face still partly burrowed in his pillow, looking at the person sitting next to him, looking at him with a gentle look.

“Tommy?” he uttered, wincing at his voice breaking. The brunet smiled at him, continuously letting his fingers softly run through the blond locks.

“Hey,” he answered, nudging the other slightly so he could slide in next to him, wrapping his arms around the blond. “What’s wrong?” he muttered against Newt’s neck, sending shivers through his body. Newt immediately leaned back, embracing the warmth, sighing gently.

“I told Alby,” he muttered, pulling the arms around him closer. Thomas kissed his shoulder, sensing the tone.

“About us?” he asked, the blond nodding in response. “I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.”

Instead of answering, Newt turned around, snuggling closer, burying his nose in the crook of Thomas’ neck. Thomas rubbed his back comfortingly, waiting patiently for the other to tell him.

“It’s just, he sounded so surprised and disappointed. As though he never expected me to be – that me being –“ he said quietly, his sentences fading out, but still making it clear to Thomas.

“You think he isn’t okay with your sexuality?” he said back, pulling the blond closer protectively. Newt didn’t say anything, so Thomas placed a kiss on his head, and pulled back slightly to nuzzle his cheek. They rested their foreheads against each other, closing their eyes.

“Are you okay?” Thomas murmured against the blond’s lips, feeling every breath against his lips. Newt hummed a yes, biting his lower lip.

Thomas leaned closer, bumping their noses together, close enough to feel Newt’s breath against his lips but far enough away for their lips _just_ not touching. Newt whined in the back of his throat, making heat rise several places in Thomas’ body. When Newt couldn’t handle the distance any longer he pushed forward, pressing their lips together. He pushed Thomas into the bed, placing his legs on either side of Thomas, straddling him. Thomas placed his hands on either side of Newt’s hips, gripping him tightly. He tried pulling him down to plant kisses all over his face, but the blond instead resisted, causing the brunet to grunt in frustration. He made it up, however, when Newt let his hands wander under his shirt, his hands roaming over his chest before pulling his shirt off. He then proceeded to place kisses all over the places his hands had been just a few seconds before, making Thomas arch in anticipation.

Newt’s night got a lot better very quickly, momentarily forgetting about disappointed best friends and stupid social expectations.

*******

They woke up together in a maze of tangled limbs, surrounded by a haze of sleepiness and snugness. Thomas nuzzled his neck, planting a kiss there before pulling away. Newt lazily reached for him causing Thomas to chuckle, leaning over to kiss him again while pulling on his pants.

“Come on,” Thomas said, pulling the t-shirt over his head. “We have school.”

When Newt simply groaned and buried himself deeper in the sheets, Thomas threw the bundle of clothes on the floor on him, making him huff from surprise.

Later, when they both arrived at the school, it was even more difficult to refrain from holding Thomas’ hand than usual, Newt still incredibly anxious about being an official couple.

They separated, Thomas having his first class in a whole other part of the school, which meant he was all by himself when someone walked up to him. Not just someone. A certain someone. A I-didn’t-expect-this-from-you someone. Newt swallowed loudly.

“Newt,” Alby greeted, looking him straight into his eyes. Newt nodded, his throat dry.

“I just wanted to ask if this is really worth it.” That made Newt’s throat constrict even further and he took a step back in shock. Was he serious? If Thomas was _worth it?_ Just the thought of anyone doubting that made him instantly angry.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. He’d never felt this way before and it was evident that Alby was just as surprised at the tone.

“For you to even doubt that says everything about how little you know about me. You can judge me all you want, but Tommy is the _best thing that’s ever happened to me.”_ Newt fumed, clenching his hands and jaw. Alby stood dumbstruck, his eyes wide, and mouth open in disbelief. They stood quietly for a moment, Alby getting over the shock and Newt slowly calming down.

“Judge you? What do you mean, judge you?” Alby said when he finally found his voice again. This made Newt frown.

“Well, you – you said – you were so surprised that I was – that I _am_ –“ Newt’s words faded.

“What? That’s how you interpreted it? No, Newt, I was – I wasn’t angry about you being gay; I was angry because you didn’t tell me before now and that I heard it from some stranger before I heard it from you.”

That. Well, that sort of made sense. Newt blinked, taking in that new information. He hadn’t expected that. He was so used to the discriminating thoughts that he hadn’t for one second thought that there were any other explanations for Alby’s anger. He let out a quiet ‘oh’, averting his gaze. Alby huffed, making Newt look up once more.

“Just, don’t be a stranger. I don’t care who you’re with as long as you’re happy.” Alby gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder, the two of them not used to the physical contact. Even so, it seemed to help them part on a better note.

*******

Newt sat at his desk, working on a drawing, happy with how the day had turned out. He’d woken up next to Thomas and found out his best friend didn’t mind their relationship. It had been a pretty great day.

A gentle knock on his door made Newt turn away from his desk, already knowing who was standing outside. Sonya entered, her stern expression alarming Newt that something was wrong. He was about to ask what was wrong when he noticed the phone in her hand. She slowly walked towards him, arm outstretched with the phone in her hand. His face visibly fell. She didn’t have to tell him who was on the line. He gingerly reached for it, not really wanting to but knowing he had to.

“Hello?” he asked cautiously, his voice turning quiet. On the other end, he heard the voices of his parents and he felt his heart thud loudly in his chest.

Nothing could prepare him for what they told him.

He couldn’t even make himself answer the ‘goodbye’ sounding from the phone, just dropped it after they ended the call and collapsed onto his chair. His aunt was by his side in an instant, carding her fingers through his hair.

“Newt, what is it sweetie? What did they say?” He took a moment to just _breathe_ , his heartbeat going crazy.

“They’re coming,” he said, taking a deep breath. “My parents are coming here.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooh, another chapter! It's been so long, so this is extra long!  
> I stayed up until 2 am last night to finish this, but just ended up writing more and more and more  
> but I don't think you guys mind c:  
> Thanks to everyone who's still following (I realise it's a pretty long series and I am a bit slow at updating)  
> Anyhow, thanks lovelies for all the amazing comments and kudos!  
> xoxo

Outside the sun was shining brightly, beams of light disturbing the darkness of the sealed room. Newt glared, burying deeper under his duvet, cursing the weather for being so great while he felt miserable. It should be raining. It should be pouring outside, loud booms and crashes thundering through the town, blinding lights every now and then. The world should be ending.

He hadn’t gone to school that day. His aunt hadn’t even tried pestering him into going to school; she knew better than that when his parents were involved. It was unnerving how much power they had over him even after months of not seeing each other and _years_ of not even living together. It scared him in more ways than he could count. He was terrified. Things were finally looking up for him and now this? If there was a God, he was surely punishing him.

But then again, wasn’t this what he deserved? He’d spent weeks actually thinking that he was _worth_ something, that he could have happiness. It was all his fault, really. This was just the world reminding him, that he wasn’t supposed to live like this.

The thoughts swirled around his head, twisting and turning, agreeing, contradicting, overall just being confusing, making his head hurt. He ended up spending the whole day in bed, nibbling on a piece of fruit but otherwise not eating anything. Luckily, his aunt didn’t ask any questions, letting him wallow alone, except for the soft ‘goodnight’ she offered before going to bed. He was debating whether to try to go to sleep – and probably fail at it – when his phone lit up. It had done that a couple of times during the day, no doubt Thomas checking up on him; he was the only one to continue texting him, even after not receiving a reply. Newt’s heart swelled at the thought, which just made the whole situation that much more difficult. He was too involved; too infatuated. It was time to go back to reality.

He grabbed his phone, reading through the texts. Sure enough, most of them were from Thomas but there was a short one from Alby, briefly describing his day and asking about Newt. Thomas’ were short and random, telling him about a cat he saw out the window or the scores on a test he got back. Newt’s lips quirked upwards before he remembered, his face going back to the neutral expression it’d been all day. He cursed the way his heart jumped, forcing it to calm down. This wasn’t fair. On any of them. Thomas didn’t deserve this.

_Oh god._ Thomas. They’d want to meet Thomas. No. No, that couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let that happen. They would ruin everything. They would –

Newt stopped his train of thoughts abruptly as he realised.

He’d never get to see Thomas again.

For the first time that day, he felt something else than the numb sadness paralysing him. He dropped his phone carelessly on the floor, burying his face in his pillow to muffle the loud sobs violently shaking his frail body.

*******

It was only because of a moment of determination that Newt showed up to school the next day. He’d managed to send a brief answer to Alby, not mentioning his parents’ announcement, not wanting to get him further involved than he already had been. He had ignored Thomas’ texts.

He tried his best to look invisible in class, which to be fair wasn’t really that difficult, since he was practically invisible to begin with. It was all going according to plan – the plan being continuously begging ‘please don’t see me’ in his head – until lunchtime. He was already on his way to the canteen when he realised that he shouldn’t be there. He’d gotten so used to actually sitting with Thomas and Teresa at lunch that he hadn’t even thought twice before letting his legs take him there. But now he shouldn’t. He turned abruptly on his heels, instead walking towards the art room which he knew from experience would be empty now. It was almost as if a wave hit him as he opened the door to the room he’d spent so many free periods in. The heavy feeling of loneliness surrounding him was almost so thick he could smell it.

Taking a deep breath though his nose, he closed his eyes before sitting at his usual spot. The room hadn't changed, and yet it felt foreign to him. The room hadn't changed. He had changed.

He pulled his sketchbook out of his backpack, feeling the familiar sense of withdrawal consuming him, shielding him from his surroundings. His fingers tingled with anticipation and it didn’t take long for him to pick up his pencil and make soft lines with it. His mind was clear, everything but the sketch in front of him a blur. It captured his attention, pulling him in easily, shielding him. This was the one thing he had that always helped. Always. It was his way of coping. Which was why everything had turned so much worse when his parents banned it.

His parents. Who were coming. Who were going to take him home. And ban it all over again. His breathing turned ragged. His hands started shaking. The pencil in his hand made an involuntary twitch, a sharp line going through the otherwise carefully drawn sketch. He sighed heavily, realising he wouldn’t be able to focus properly with the thoughts still swirling inside his head. His head felt heavier than it had in a long time, so he let it fall into his arms, hiding himself from the world, wishing his problems would just vanish. He hadn’t heard the door opening, so he nearly jumped in the air when a hand rested against his shoulder.

His head snapped up, his eyes finding brown, soft ones staring into his own. _Of fucking course._ A groan erupted from his throat before he could stop it and he found himself leaning away from the touch, even though he wanted to savour it as long as he could have it. The action caused the boy in front of him to frown even more, his hand hanging helplessly in the air where Newt’s shoulder had been a few seconds before. Before Thomas had a chance to speak, Newt had already thrown his sketchbook in his backpack and was hurrying out the door as fast as he could.

The hallway was filled with people, seeing as the bell would ring any minute, so Newt had to push some of them out of his way in his hurry to get outside. He heard the brunet call for him but didn’t let himself to look back even as the calls got frantic and tore a hole in Newt’s heart. Finally reaching outside, he took a moment to breathe in the cold air, clearing his mind. Apparently, that’s all Thomas needed to catch up. A hand closed around his wrist and Newt didn’t need to look to recognise that hand.

“Newt!” Thomas said, his grip tightening as if he was afraid the blond would slip through his fingers. The blond didn’t respond, didn’t even turn around, even as Thomas tugged slightly on his hand. “What’re you doing? Why did you run away? Newt, can you at least look at me?”. It was obvious he was trying to be the calm one and make sense of the situation. Newt didn’t budge.

“You need to leave me alone,” Newt said, focusing on keeping his voice steady. He’d expected Thomas to let him go, to leave him alone. Usually, he never pushed Newt in these situations. Imagine his surprise when the brunet laughed.

“Are you serious right now? I thought we’d been over this,” Thomas said, his voice surprisingly chirpy for someone who’s boyfriend just told them to leave them alone. In pure confusion, Newt turned around to face the brunet, who was, unbelievably, _smiling_. Now it was Newt’s turn to frown.

“Look, Newt,” Thomas said, the amusement gone but his tone soft. “I already told you, I’m not going anywhere. You can’t scare me away. Nothing can. So please, just,” he paused, biting his lip, “tell me, okay? Don’t shut yourself away. I understand if you need to be alone just, please, _tell_ me.”

It was as though Newt could physically feel the weight being lifted off his shoulders as he sighed heavily and leaned into the brunet, who didn’t hesitate to pull him into a tight hug.

“So? Are you going to tell me, or are we just going to stand out here until either of us starts sneezing,” he murmured lightly into Newt’s ear, his breath tickling. Newt tightened his grip subconsciously.

“My parents are coming,” he whispered as though scared that saying it out loud would make it more real. He felt Thomas’ arms tighten around him and gladly buried his face in Thomas’ neck when given the opportunity. Thomas didn’t say anything, which Newt appreciated; nothing could be said to make it better and Thomas knew that.

They stood there even after the bell signalled the beginning of third period. Eventually, when Newt started shaking from the cold, Thomas ushered him inside and made him promise that they’d meet after school.

When lying in his bed that night, Newt wondered why he’d ever thought he could protect Thomas; he’d never let him.

*******

The next week it happened. Newt had been trying to stay at school as much as possible, trying to delay the inevitable, even though his parents were arriving later that night and it wouldn’t make a difference.

Thomas had tried convincing him to go with him to Chuck’s place in an attempt to calm the blond, but Newt had freaked out, thinking about the mess in his room and how his parents could potentially use that against him. Therefore he ran home, thinking about how messy the apartment was and how much he had to do before his parents arrived, causing his leg to hurt under the pressure and stress.

When his aunt came home later, she found him scrubbing the toilet floor frantically, as if that specific tile was the reason his parents were coming. She glanced at him worriedly while cooking dinner, but he pretended not to notice and instead fretted around the apartment, turning knick-knacks into perfect positions, balancing paintings and mirrors perfectly, making sure they were in the correct position. To say it shortly: he was freaking out.

The dread was turning his stomach inside out and he eyed the toilet occasionally when he could practically feel the vile in his throat. His hands were shaking and he had to change his shirt three times, sweating nervously through them. When the clock turned eight there was a knock on the door that made the colour disappear from his face completely. He stood stiffly, not even registering Sonya’s worried look or her comforting touch. He stared at the door, feeling as if all breath had left his body. It was as if he was drowning, gasping for air. Sonya sent him another worried glance, her hand hovering on the doorknob. He closed his eyes, begging for his heart to calm down. It wouldn’t do well to have his aunt worried about him through this whole thing, or she’d do something reckless, such as trying to talk some sense into his parents. He’d learned the hard way that that was practically impossible. When he opened his eyes again, his heart was still beating rapidly, hands still shaking, but he nodded slightly and tried his best to stand straight when he heard the lock turn and the door open.

When a familiar mop of brown hair appeared, he nearly collapsed onto the ground from relief. It only took a second, though, before the dread came back with full force.

“Thomas!” he hissed through his teeth, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans to hide the shaking. “What’re you doing here?”

Thomas, being Thomas, of course, simply smiled at him, politely greeting Sonya before moving in front of Newt.

“Moral support,” he said, grinning stupidly, and at that moment, Newt hated how calming that was.

“You can’t be here! You don’t understand, they –“ he began, his hands flailing, words failing. He breathed heavily, trying to control his nerves, but all it did was make it more difficult to get air. His vision turned blurry, so he closed his eyes in an attempt to get himself under control. Calloused hands grabbed either side of his face and he felt a weight on his forehead where Thomas had placed his own.

“It’s okay. Breathe with me Newt. In – and out. Like that,” he said in a calm voice, breathing slowly until Newt matched his pace. When he opened his eyes again, Thomas was right there, stroking his cheeks gently, a soft smile on his lips.

“Okay. Okay,” Newt said, his heart calming just by the other’s touch. There were a couple of peaceful minutes where the two of them simply gazed at each other, breathing slowly together.

Then the peace was abruptly disturbed by another set of knocks on the door.

Newt visibly paled, his breathing stopping completely. Thomas took a step back, standing an appropriate distance away, but he let his hand slide down to clench Newt’s, keeping eye contact, wordlessly telling him he’d be right there with him. Newt took a deep breath, once again nodding at his aunt who was looking at him.

She opened the door.

A woman with brown hair and matching eyes immediately stepped inside, a suitcase following right behind her. She greeted Sonya with a hug, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it up before letting her husband inside. He, on the other hand, had blond hair and mirrored his wife’s actions, greeting his sister and pulling the suitcases inside. The woman was complaining about the flight not paying attention to her surroundings before she had shrugged off all of her outerwear. Then she took a long look at the apartment, taking in every inch before her eyes landed on her son standing on the other end of the room with a brunet looming behind him, seemingly watching her closely. She smiled stiffly, moving closer to the two boys.

“Isaac,” she said in greeting, using his birth name rather than his nickname and pulling the boy in a one-sided hug. The blond stiffly touching his mother’s back before pulling back as soon as possible. Her gaze shifted behind him, looking at Thomas intensely as if she could read everything on his posture and face. He, however, didn’t seem to take notice and smiled charmingly at her, offering her his hand.

“Thomas,” he said when she accepted his outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Newton.” She merely gave him a small, reserved smile. Thomas presented himself to Newt’s father as well after Newt had repeated the greeting with him. After the introductions, Sonya told them to sit by the dining table, where she’d put the pre-cooked meal she’d just heated. Thomas and Newt sat next to each other, making it easy for Thomas to put his hand on Newt’s knee, his thumb comfortingly rubbing circles, beneath the table where it would be hidden from Newt’s parents.

“Excuse me for asking,” Newt’s mother began, her gaze still on Thomas, catching his attention. “But what exactly are you doing here?” Newt winced at the harsh question, knowing his mother didn’t think he had any friends whatsoever. Thomas gave his knee a squeeze but smiled at Mrs. Newton.

“We were going through some stuff for school, and he mentioned you were coming all the way from England,” he lied smoothly, not even batting an eye. “Newt is one of my very good friends, so I thought I’d stay and officially meet you.” Mrs. Newton made an unimpressed sound and shifted her attention onto her dinner. It was obvious she didn’t believe him.

Thomas tightened his grip around Newt’s knee slightly, more because of his own rage that he couldn’t let show than to comfort Newt. How could they be so disbelieving of their son actually having a friend? Newt’s hand rested on top of Thomas’, making the brunet’s shoulders relax a little. Apparently, he hadn’t hidden it as well as he thought. He shot the blond a grateful smile. It was supposed to be a private exchange, but apparently, that grabbed Newt’s parents’ interest.

Newt’s father narrowed his eyes, looking suspiciously between the two of them. Newt’s mother stared at her son with a blank face, making Newt fidget under her gaze.

“Friend you say,” she said unnervingly calmly, her gaze on Newt even though her statement was an answer to Thomas’ explanation from before. Newt swallowed the lump in his throat, staring at the glass of water in front of him.

“Tell me, how did you two meet?” Newt’s mother said in a strange, calm tone, her gaze never wavering.

“Well actually, we met at a party – uhm, I mean, a gathering of, uh, some people, and we were both ditched by our best friends so we just sort of started talking and, uh, hit it off pretty quickly,” Thomas rambled, seeing Newt’s frozen posture and figuring he wouldn’t be able to say anything at the moment. Mrs. Newton hummed thoughtfully, squinting her eyes. Silence took over their superficial conversation, no one knowing exactly what to say. Newt squirmed uncomfortably and Thomas noticed that he barely ate anything, merely nibbling on the food so it looked like he was taking part in the meal. Thomas glanced at him anxiously, trying to get eye contact, but the blond stared at his meal, trying his best to make himself as small as possible.

“How are your grades, Isaac?” his father asked, breaking the silence. This was his way of asking about school; that’s basically all they cared about: the grades. Newt pretended to swallow, looking up from his plate.

“It’s going well,” he said in a practised voice. It was so steady it would’ve fooled Thomas if he weren’t sitting right next to him and seeing his hands continuously clenching and unclenching. If this was the usual dinner conversations went, Thomas was beginning to understand Newt’s need of getting away. The tension was so thick he could feel it in the air and, judging from Newt’s deep breaths, so could he. Mr. Newton made an agreeing hum in the back of his throat, returning to the meal in front of him. They might as well all be invisible for all the attention the parents payed them. Thomas took the opportunity to grab Newt’s hands again under the table, sending him an encouraging smile when he looked up. Newt tried to return it, the edges of his mouth twitching slightly upwards. Sonya sent the two boys a knowing look, her own mouth forming a small smile.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor broke whatever calmness had settled upon them. Newt snatched his hand away from Thomas’ as both his parents stood up, grabbing their plates to place them in the kitchen. Sonya stood up as well, grabbing the boys’ plates and sending them a look before going to the kitchen to clean up. When they were all out of view, Newt slumped against his chair, sighing heavily. Thomas debated whether he dared to reach out and touch him. The blond decided that for him, when he took his hand, stood up, and dragged him with him into his room. As soon as the door closed, Newt practically collapsed into Thomas’ arms, burying his face in his neck. Thomas held him closely, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Thomas placed kisses on top of Newt’s head, his face, his neck, anywhere he could reach. He started walking backwards, pulling Newt with him until they reached the bed, where he gently put the blond down, never letting go of him.

They fell on the bed together, landing in a mess of limps tangled together. Thomas repositioned himself, making it more comfortable for both of them. He pulled him close so Newt could rest his head on his chest, settling his arms around him and pulling him close. They lay silently for a while, simply breathing.

“Thank you for being here, Tommy,” Newt mumbled, turning his head so he could look at the brunet. Thomas let his hand caress the blond’s face, answering him with a soft kiss. Resting their foreheads together, they both closed their eyes, shutting themselves off from the world.

That is, until the door opened. Newt jumped at the sound, backing up against the wall, leaving Thomas to flail for balance and not falling off the bed. When he finally steadied himself he got the chance to look at the door, where two figures were standing.

Newt’s parents. His mother’s eyes were wide, unbelieving, while his father had a stern look on his face, both of them focusing on Newt rather than Thomas.

“Uh –“ Thomas began, trying to figure out some way of explaining what they’d just walked in on, as he had previously introduced himself as only a friend, but he didn’t get the chance to say anything before Mrs. Newton interrupted.

“I think you should go home, Thomas.” She said in a monotone voice, her tone not advising a debate on the subject. But who was Thomas to ever listen?

“Mrs. Newton if I could just –“ he began, standing up from the bed and approaching her slowly, as if scared she’d lash out anytime. To be fair, she did look like she was holding back a lot of anger. Newt winced when his mother’s piercing gaze shifted to Thomas, feeling sorry for him and wishing he hadn’t been subject to her infamous stare. It did its work and immediately shut him up long enough for Newt’s mother to talk.

“If you don’t mind, this is a family business, and I’d very much like to speak with my _son_ alone, thank you. Goodbye.”

Thomas hesitated, looking back at Newt. He really didn’t want to leave him alone, considering how anxious he’d been feeling _the whole week_ , and now he was in the exact situation he’d been fearing. Newt, however, forced himself to smile and nod at Thomas, even though he knew the brunet could see right through it. It was enough for Thomas to leave, though, so Newt found that a victory. It wouldn’t have done any of them well if he’d stayed and argued with his parents.

When he walked out, his parents closed the bedroom door, still staring at Newt as though he were an alien. Even though he’d been raised with that look, it still unsettled him immensely.

“Isaac,” his father said, taking a deep breath through his nose. “What were you thinking?”

Instead of answering, Newt ducked his head, knowing fully well that whatever he said could and _would_ be held against him. He hadn’t missed this one bit.

“Isaac,” his mother repeated, taking a small step towards him. “Whatever he told you, this is _not_ how friendships work.”

That seemed to catch his attention, his head snatching up, looking at his mother with wide eyes. Where they really that ignorant?

“I know that’s not –“ he began explaining, however, they didn’t let him.

“I knew this would happen,” his mother said, turning to share a knowing look with his father. “I just knew it. This is so typical Americans; just take advantage of the innocent boy who doesn’t have a clue how relationships work.”

Newt flinched at the words, even though they were spoken softly.

“Mum, that’s not how it –“ he tried again, though his voice was too weak for her to hear. Even if she had heard him, she probably wouldn’t have let him speak anyway until she was done.

“This is exactly why we came here. Does he know about your accident? I bet that’s why he’s doing it, isn’t it. He’s probably some sick boy who thrives on the pain of others, oh, our poor little boy.”

Her words made Newt seethe with rage – _actually_ seethe. He had never felt this way before, not even when his parents tried to take him home after his ‘accident’ as they called it. He felt a sudden rush of energy, a needing to _protect_ rising in him.

No one talked about Thomas that way. Not even his parents.

“You’re wrong!” he yelled, unable to control his anger. This finally seemed to catch his parents’ attention, turning around to look at him with shocked, wide eyes. He’d never burst like that before.

“He isn’t – it isn’t like that!” he frantically shouted, desperately trying to knock it into their thick heads. Before, he would’ve believed anyone saying that Thomas couldn’t possibly be with him for any sincere reason. But it was different now. He _knew_ Thomas. He _trusted_ Thomas completely. And he wouldn’t stand by while people spoke ill of him. Even if those people were his parents who frightened him more than anything.

“Isaac, I know you think that –“ his father began, but this time Newt didn’t let him finish.

“No! No, you don’t get to talk! You don’t know anything! I’ve been living here for more than _two years_ and you don’t know anything about my life here! I actually do know how friendships work. I _know_ that Thomas and I aren’t friends. You know why? Because we’re dating. We’re in a _relationship._ And you’re right, I don’t know a lot about relationships, but that’s okay. I have Tommy. And we figure it out together. I don’t care what you say about me, but _don’t you dare_ claim to know who Tommy is. Because you don’t. He’s the best person I’ve ever met. The most sincere, stupidest, and yet smartest person ever. But you wouldn’t know that. Because you _don’t know him_.”

He breathed heavily after his outbreak, heat rising to his cheeks. Looking at his parents who were dumbstruck, he realised how reckless he’d been. They had the power to take him back for good. And he’d just given them the ultimate weapon; he’d been disobedient. He might’ve had a chance of staying, if he’d just played their game. But not now. He’d ruined it. It struck him hard, and he suddenly just needed to get _out_ and _away_ and _breathe_.

He ran out of the apartment, leaving his still flabbergasted parents behind, rushing past Sonya before she had a chance to stop him, and hurried outside. He knew exactly where he was going.

When he arrived, he didn’t even bother to knock, Mrs. Green having told him several times that he was always welcome and should make himself at home, which meant no knocking. She was sitting in the living room when he entered, and when spotting him simply pointed upstairs, already knowing who he was there for. He said his thanks and nearly ran upstairs and opened the door as soon as he reached it.

Thomas was sitting by his desk and looked startled when Newt entered his room, but didn’t question him when he saw the look on his face. Instead, he immediately got up and wrapped him in a tight hug, pulling the door closed behind him.

_This_ was where he belonged. _This_ was his family. Not those judgemental, ignorant people at his aunt’s place. They were strangers. Just people he grew up with. Nothing more.

He took a deep breath, the comforting smell of Thomas and his home calming him and welcoming him.

For the moment, he wouldn’t think about the consequences. For once, he’d do what was best for _him_.

He didn’t think about tomorrow where he would have to face them again. He didn’t even think about his parents. For the rest of that night, he only thought about the boy distracting him with kisses and caresses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert sex scene that I am incapable of writing*


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hii!  
> Sorry it took a bit, my computer decided to delete practically the whole chapter .-. so I had to rewrite quite a few paragraphs. Anyhow, here it is!  
> Also, I'd like to address something that's been going on a bit in this fic: The whole smut situation.  
> I cannot write smut, and I feel extremely uncomfortable doing it, so I'm truly sorry, since I know a bunch of you guys would like me to write that, since I've hinted the action quite a few times. If that's all you're waiting for, then I'm sorry to announce that that is not going to happen :/ sorry again!  
> Right, now that that's out of the way, please enjoy the chapter! (I hope you will, anyhow!)  
> Thank you guys so much, as usual! I cannot stress enough how happy I am that you seem to enjoy my fic c:  
> xoxo

He woke up slowly to someone gently rubbing his back, touching the bare skin. He shivered slightly and leant backwards to get more of the heat radiated from the body behind him. In response, he was pulled closer, a nose burying itself in his neck. Newt sighed contently, wishing he could stay in that embrace forever.

But of course he couldn’t. Yesterday’s actions snuck into his mind, reminding him of the doom he was forced to meet today as a consequence. He whimpered quietly, pulling the sheets up over his head in an attempt to shut everything else out.

“Hey,” a voice said from behind him, slightly croaky from sleep. Two hands pulled the sheet down, causing Newt to squint his eyes from the light now seeping in.

“Let’s get some breakfast, yeah?” Thomas said close to his ear, kissing him just below the earlobe. Newt whined when he leaned back against the brunet, only to fall against sheets that were still warm from the missing body. He glared at Thomas, who was pulling on a shirt. When he noticed the blond’s pout, he simply threw some clothes to him, chuckling when it hit him square in the face.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Newt said, throwing his arms up in surrender before taking the clothes off his face. A little bit of heat rose to his cheeks when he recognised the clothing to be Thomas’. It was weirdly intimate, wearing the other’s clothes, and something Newt was sure he’d never get used to.

*******

Thomas looked across the table where Newt was sitting, chatting casually with Thomas’ mother. His eyes were soft and unworried, his laugh careless, his smile wide and open. This was how he was supposed to look. Thomas really didn’t want the moment to end; Newt was looking so at ease as if he were home. Or, you know, a proper home. With people he cared about and who cared about him. Judging from the impression he got last night, and the things Newt had told him – and _hadn’t_ told him – that was something Newt hadn’t experienced until recently. However, at one point they needed to face reality. Thomas just wished it wouldn’t have to be so soon.

When his mother grabbed the dishes, insisting that she could manage on her own, the boys went up to Thomas’ room again. Before Thomas could even confront Newt about last night, he began speaking.

“Thanks for letting me stay, Tommy,” Newt said quietly, his back turned against the brunet. Thomas’ heart ached at the vulnerability expressed in the small voice. He wanted to reach out to him, to shield him from the world, take care of him, and never letting anything harm him. In truth, what he really wanted was to keep him here and go tell his parents to leave him the hell alone. Though, that wouldn’t help their case much. They had every right to take him away and then Thomas would be left with nothing. No, he couldn’t have that. So they’d have to sort this out. If Thomas for one second believed that Newt would be fine going back to England, he’d let him. But this was something different. Newt _dreaded_ his life there. Here, he was capable of laughing, caring, and _loving_. So he’d fight. He’d fight to let him stay here. Even if that meant having to reason with the unreasonable.

He walked towards the blond, trying to ignore how small he looked with his arms pulled tightly around his chest. Just as he was about to reach out, the blond turned towards him. Thomas stopped, his arm half way of reaching the blond, noticing the harsh, empty look in the brown eyes, usually filled with such emotion.

“Newt?” he asked carefully, letting his arm fall but taking a cautious step closer to the blond. There was no reaction, the cold look remaining.

“I have to go back,” Newt said, his tone as cold as his look. Thomas nearly flinched but managed to suppress it. He let his hands fall to his sides, gaze softening as he looked at the blond.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Thomas asked quietly, keeping his voice low to keep the blond calm. Brown wide eyes stared at him for a minute, a considering look filling his brown irises. The cold front visibly relaxed, his body losing the tension build from the storm going on inside him.

“No,” Newt said heavily, exhaling the word. “No, I must do this on my own.” Breathing deeply once more, he took the final step closer to the brunet.

“Thank you,” he said, giving Thomas’ hand a squeeze and a small kiss before hurriedly walking out of the room, as though if he didn’t go fast enough he’d change his mind and stay.

Thomas stood in the empty room, left to hoping that everything went well.

Or at least that’s what he was supposed to do. He tried, he really did. He managed to try for about thirty minutes.

Cursing himself, he grabbed a sweater from his bed and nearly ran down the stairs and out of the house, going in the direction the blond just went.

*******

Newt stood outside the apartment, taking deep breaths, trying to control his rapidly beating heart. This was it. He had to do it. Even if his parents decided to bring him back with them. Even if he had to leave everything here behind. Even then, he had to do this. Because this was the first time he’d stood up to his parents, and he wasn’t about to stop now. He’d already gone this far, might as well take it all the way. Even so, he had to steady himself, willing the trembling in his hands to go away.

He grabbed the handle, turning it slowly. As the door opened, he peaked in, considering the danger before daring to go inside. Seeing no one, he took a cautious step in, closing the door quietly behind him. Maybe they’d gone away? Maybe they’d gotten an important business call and had to return immediately? It was extremely implausible, but he was allowed to hope. That hope, however, shattered into a billion pieces and was carried far away with the wind when his parents appeared with Sonya trailing behind. Spotting him by the door, they briefly glanced at each other, standing still. Sonya, on the other hand, went to greet Newt with a beam and a tight hug.

“You okay?” she whispered quietly in his ear, resting her hands on his shoulders. He prided in the small smile he managed to give her and nodded slightly. She clenched his shoulders comfortingly before standing aside so his parents, who by now had recovered from his sudden appearance, could get to talk to him. She didn’t go far though, and settled just beside him where she could reach out to him if needed. Just her presence made Newt relax considerably. He knew she’d be on his side and try to stop it if things were to get out of hand.

“So,” his mother began, as usual. “Where were you last night?” Newt was torn between flinching and rolling his eyes at the question; he though it was fairly obvious.

“I slept at Thomas’. I do that occasionally. He calms me down if I’m agitated.” He stood up a little straighter when his voice came out surprisingly steady. His father pressed his lips together in a thin line, his face going redder.

“That’s not acceptable for –“ he began, and Newt could feel his aunt tense beside him, but he didn’t get to finish. His mother put a hand on her husband’s arm, quieting him.

“Isaac, I know you think that this thing between you two –“ she began. “But,” she continued when he opened his mouth to interrupt, “this is now why we are here, though it certainly gives another indication on the matter.” This made Newt forget any sort of objection he might’ve had. They hadn’t known about Thomas before arriving here, so really, that wouldn’t make any difference to their reason.

“- you said you go there whenever you’re agitated. And how often is that then? Hmm?” Newt fidgeted, knowing his parents were looking closely for his reaction.

“I –“ he began, clearing his throat in an attempt to get rid of the nervous lump forming. “Well, I go there practically every day but it wasn’t always –“ He tried to hurry on with an explanation that he didn’t _only_ go there when he was agitated, that he also went there when he was happy, whenever he just needed a break, but they didn’t let him finish.

“Everyday? You’re telling me you’ve been seeking his _‘comfort’_ everyday? Did you know about this?” The last bit was directed toward Sonya, whose grip tightened by the raise of their voices.

“Yes, I did, but it’s not –“ she tried, but once again the explanation was cut off.

“I can’t believe you let something like this happen!” Newt’s father exclaimed, joining in on the conversation where he had been quiet for the most of the time. “And you were aware of it this whole time? Why didn’t you put an end to this?” Sonya stepped forward, opening her mouth to speak, but they weren’t finished.

“We told you about his situation when we let him stay here, didn’t we? Did you forget? He’s just a boy, Sonya! If you aren’t able to protect him from these things, then –“

The sentence was never finished, as his aunt finally had had enough and stepped in front of Newt as though to shield him.

“Protect him? Protect him?! You seriously believe that what you’re doing is protecting him? If it were up to you, he’d be completely _isolated!_ Do you know what that does to a kid? Never having any friends, anyone to rely on, not even his _family_ because they think he’s made out of glass and isn’t ready for the real world, just because he has had some insecurities, which by the way only developed from your hesitance to let him _live_.”

“He’s always had the potential; you just never let him show it to you. He’s perfectly able to interact with people, befriend, and fall in love. Now, he’s actually found someone who doesn’t _care_ about his insecurities, who wants to _help_ him unlike you. Most importantly, he found someone who values him above anything and anyone else, and someone he _trusts_. And you’re telling me that I’m not protecting him? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t protect him as much as I should. But one thing’s certain; I’m not going to take his life away from him now that he’s finally living!”

Sonya was fuming with anger, taking heavy breaths. Newt could recognise the red spots on her neck, having seen them briefly, and much less noticeable, occasionally when work was rough on her, or when she was on the phone yelling at some poor editor. He’d never seen it this extreme, though, and considering his parents’ shocked expressions, they hadn’t expected the otherwise calm woman to go all out on them. It seemed Sonya was thinking along the same lines, as she took deep breaths to calm herself, though still standing firmly in front of Newt.

If it were a different situation, Newt might’ve laughed at his parents’ flabbergasted expressions. The usually neutral faces were naked; the wide eyes and slightly open mouths betrayed their stoic appearance.

A pregnant silence filled the room, the only sound in the room being the silent hum of the wind outside. For once, they didn’t know what to say or what to do. Newt observed their perplexed glances, their mouths opening and closing continuously.

It could’ve gone on forever if the door hadn’t opened at that moment.

All eyes were drawn to the figure leaning against the door, panting. Thomas looked between the four people, immediately noticing the defensive stance Sonya had taken in front of Newt. Instinctively, he joined her, pushing Newt slightly back, keeping his hand on him to assure that he stayed behind him.

Newt caught himself thinking that if Thomas had been a dog, he’d be growling at this point. _Really, this idiot,_ he thought fondly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

Thomas’ sudden appearance seemed to drag Newt’s parents out of the trance they’d been caught in.

“Thomas, was it? I believe you’re the one my son is -“ Newt’s mother broke the silence, pausing briefly. “Dating.” She stepped forward and reached out her hand in a friendly gesture. To say that he was surprised would be a huge understatement. When he didn’t meet her halfway, she sighed, letting her hand drop.

“I know we’ve been… a bit exaggerating in our accusations towards you and Newt and your relationship.”

Even from behind, Newt could see Thomas eyeing her suspiciously, but nevertheless stretched his hand towards her. Her lips twitched as she took his hand and shook it. When they parted, she turned towards her husband.

“Even so, we’ll need to evaluate the situation in order to decide our actions for the future.” Her voice was calm and filled with authority, as though she knew for certain that her word was law. The words, however, did not have the desired impact. Instead of going into silent acceptance as was expected, Newt couldn’t help the outburst.

“W-What?” He regretted it immediately when all attention switched to him. They all stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He looked from his parents to his aunts before settling on Thomas’ comforting eyes. Just his presence gave him the confidence to continue.

“The future?” he asked, purposely making it simple, so he would avoid nervous stuttering. “What do you mean?” At this, his parents turned to fully towards him.

“Obviously we’ll need to see for ourselves how you're getting by. It's not easy keeping in contact –“ Newt heard Thomas snicker beside him, just low enough for no one but him to hear it. “- and considering your incident in June, we started doubting whether moving you here was the best choice after all. Especially now that you have ignored the promise to write in the diary.”

The last statement took Newt by surprise, but then he shouldn’t be, since he should’ve figured that Sonya would’ve told them. To Newt’s credit, he didn’t lose all the fight in him even after that speech, but he didn’t get to contradict his mother.

“I don’t think we should talk about this anymore. For the time being, we’ll be staying here and see how things goes. Okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she followed her husband into the guest room, that was usually an office, but was equipped with a sofa bed. Not the most comfortable alternative, but it was assumedly the best way of keeping track of him.

“I guess that’s over with then,” Sonya said, also retreating to her room, where she had a spare desk she could work on while her brother and sister-in-law occupied her office, leaving the two boys alone in the living room.

“Sorry, I know you said you needed to do this alone –“ Thomas began, looking down guiltily, but Newt hurriedly interrupted him.

“No! No, I’m glad you came.” He comfortingly put a hand on the brunet’s arm, making him look up. Seeing Newt’s convincing smile seemed to do the trick and he heaved a relieved sigh, his shoulders dropping the tension they’d held ever since he entered.

“So, uh,” Thomas said uncertainly, rubbing his neck and glancing towards the guestroom. Newt’s heart ached slightly, wishing Thomas hadn’t had to meet the nerve wreckers that were his parents. Instead of dwelling on the thought, however, he forced the smile to stay and gently tugging on Thomas’ hand. When he started walking towards his room, Thomas’ nervous glancing stopped and instead he reversed the roles, now tugging Newt instead of the other way around.

With it being Saturday, neither of the boys had any specific plans, so they settled on cuddling on the bed while watching a movie. Newt thanked whatever power kept his parents from interfering at any point, probably doing paperwork in their room in an effort to make up for the time they’d taken off work to come to America. Anyway, Newt and Thomas were granted the possibility of simply being in each other’s presence without worrying about the constant threat to their relationship.

For the time being, all they could do was being themselves and hope that that would be enough to convince Newt’s parents to let him stay. After all, they were quite the couple.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time I updated was last year? (haha, I'm sorry, I had to!)  
> I hope you all had a great Christmas break and new year's!  
> Not much happens in this chapter, I'm afraid, it's more of a transfer to the next part of this story. Nevertheless, I wanted you to have something :-)  
> As always thanks for everything!  
> xoxo

It wasn’t easy living four in an apartment meant for two. It wasn’t easy living with his parents to begin with, but now cramped in the limited amount of space in the apartment, it was pure torture. He couldn’t do anything without his parents noticing. Getting up too late? His mother’s suspicious glare. Taking the dinner to his room? His father’s disagreeing glance. Now, he even had a curfew. He hadn’t needed one in the beginning, always barricading his room and staying in there. He didn’t get one recently, Sonya only glad that he finally had somewhere to go when his room became too suffocating. Now, he had to be back for dinner, and preferably straight after school. Even though he longed for Mrs. Green and Thomas’ cooking, he didn’t dare risk the silent acceptance his parents had showed so far.

That didn’t stop him from missing it though.

He lay in bed wondering just when exactly he had turned so… spoiled. Here he was, pitying himself, missing the warmth next to him. He had started to get used to the kindness of Thomas and his mother that he nearly forgot how his life was – how it was supposed to be. Or at least how he thought it was supposed to be – how he was taught it was supposed to be.

His phone beeping pulled him out of his own head and into reality. He checked the text and subconsciously smiled when he saw the name on the screen.

_Thomas:  
Hey, are you still awake?_

_Newt:  
No_

_Thomas:  
Oh, sorry._

Newt snorted fondly, feeling the tug of longing even more.

_Newt:  
You idiot._

When he didn’t answer right away, Newt was afraid he had offended him, realising that text might not put the hidden meaning through. He was halfway to panicking, when the beep made his heart jump to his throat.

_Thomas:  
Rude. I happen to have high grades._

Newt released a relieved sigh, a smile spreading on his face. He relaxed into his bed before sending a reply.

_Newt:  
And yet you didn’t know the difference between Britain and England._

_Thomas:  
That was one time. There are other things more worth remembering._

_Newt:  
You mean like being able to remember the whole script of the marvel films or remembering the exact page number in the comic the scenes are based on?_

Newt smiled into his pillow, remembering when they’d pulled an all-nighter watching all the marvel films, only because he’d let it slip that he’d never watched any of them and Thomas cried ‘blasphemy’ so loud they had to muffle their giggles to hear if they’d woken Thomas’ mother. They had then settled on the bed, Thomas’ arms wrapped around Newt, and started to watch them all. Thomas would say his favourite lines with the actor, but still get surprised or be heartbroken at certain moments, even if he knew the movies by heart. It was so dorky and adorable; Newt wasn’t able to refuse, even if they both felt dead the next day.

_Thomas:  
Don’t pretend you didn’t like those movies! I saw you smile when you thought I wasn’t looking._

Colour crept up Newt’s neck as he read the text. He felt embarrassed but also extremely thrilled by the fact that Thomas watched him while he wasn’t looking. It was as though a string pulled his heart at that moment, the longing becoming intense and unbearable. His fingers moved on their own, trying to convey what his heart was screaming.

_Newt:  
I want to see you._

Before he could think about it, he sent the message. When the familiar swooshing sound indicated it had been sent, he took a deep breath. The seconds were painfully long with regret slowly crippling through him. Then as the seconds turned into minutes, he slowly started to believe that Thomas had fallen asleep. After all, it was a school night. His heart nearly leaped out of his chest when his phone lit up with a message.

_Thomas:  
Come to the park._

The smile that spread on Newt’s face made his cheeks hurt, but he didn’t care. His chest pumped with anticipation, and he quickly threw on a hoodie and slipped out of his door. His smile stayed even as he quietly sneaked through the living room to the front door, trying not to be heard by his parents. He didn’t bother tying his shoes properly, or putting on a scarf or anything for that matter that could protect him from the harsh coldness.

Once outside, he had to force himself to walk slowly to the park, since it was pretty close to his home but a 20 or 30-minute walk from Thomas’. Once outside, he had to force himself to walk slowly to the park, since it was pretty close to his home but a 20 or 30-minute walk from Thomas’. Even so, he made it there in 5 minutes.

He had expected to wait for a long time, but he had only stood for a moment – being too jumpy to sit down – when a familiar figure appeared. He couldn’t stop the wide smile from spreading on his face, immediately walking briskly towards the other. Thomas was breathing heavily and his face was red from the cold or from running, Newt couldn’t tell, but when he spotted Newt, his face brightened.

They met halfway in a crushing hug, both of them feeling starved of the other’s touch even though they’ve seen each other every day. However, that’s just the thing. They’ve seen each other but they haven’t _been together._ At school there are obvious restrictions, such as only being together during breaks and the whole ordeal with public display of affection.

When they pull back from each other, they both wordlessly agree to meet in a wet kiss. Newt tilted his head slightly, allowing Thomas to put his hand on the back of his neck and deepen the kiss. The other hand, he slid around the blond’s waist, gripping gently, making sure their bodies were as close as possible. Newt let his hands hang on Thomas’ hips, occasionally letting his hands roam on his chest or up to unwind his hair with his fingers.

If it hadn’t been near midnight, Newt would’ve cared about other people seeing them. But right now, in the darkness with only the two of them, he couldn’t care to think about anything else.

It was eventually Thomas who broke the kiss, letting his hand slide to Newt’s cheek. Their breaths mixed visibly as mist. Thomas’ warm hands caressed his face gently, and Newt suddenly became aware of just how warm they were. He squinted his eyes slightly, trying to decipher if the redness on Thomas’ cheeks could be fever. Before he could get himself to ask, Thomas beat him to it.

“Jeez, Newt, you’re freezing.” And _oh_ that made more sense. Thomas put both his hands on Newt’s face and laid small, warm kisses to his face, letting his lips linger on the tip of his nose. He pulled Newt close, covering as much of the blond’s naked skin with his own as possible. It was then Newt noticed how much he was shivering, and he clung to Thomas, greedily soaking in his warmth.

“Why didn’t you wear a scarf or something?” Thomas asked quietly, pulling back slightly to tie his own blue one around Newt’s neck. It was something he did quite often and Newt found it rather endearing.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into the scarf which muffled the sound. “I was rushing here.” At that, Thomas’ attempts to wrap the blond as much as possible in the scarf stopped, causing Newt to look up from where he’d previously been watching Thomas’ long fingers work. Thomas grinned, placing his hands on either side of Newt’s face and pulled him in for a soft kiss.

“I missed you too,” he whispered gently against Newt’s lips. They were so close, they both felt the other smile rather than seeing it.

However much they both wanted to stay as long as possible, the cold easily crept onto them. They parted ways very slowly with lingering touches and even kept looking back at the other as they started walking their separate ways.

When Thomas was completely out of sight, Newt felt the small tug of loneliness, but he managed to keep it at bay with the content feeling of _touch_ that still made his skin tickle.

He tried to open the door as quietly as possible and took his jacket, shoes, and borrowed scarf off slowly before attempting to sneak into his room silently. He wasn’t as stealthy as he’d hoped, though.

He’d been so focused on being quiet that he hadn’t noticed the small stream of light coming from the kitchen, which opened into the living room he had to sneak through in order to get to his room. When a voice called his name, he turned around on the spot, dread filling him immediately.

Luckily, it was only his aunt standing there with a glass of water in her hand. She shot him a suspicious look and glanced at the door, making sure that Newt realised she knew he’d only arrived just now. He tried giving her a somewhat innocent smile but it turned out more mischievous, as though he was a small child having been caught with its hand down the cookie jar. She huffed softly, shaking her head at him with a small smile and waved her hand at him, wordlessly telling him to go to bed already.

He didn’t need to ask that she didn’t tell his parents; he already knew she wouldn’t. Instead, he sent her a grateful smile and hurried into his room before she changed her mind and decided to punish him for sneaking out.

He sent a small text to Thomas, saying he got home alright and waited for the same response from the brunet before allowing himself to go to sleep.

But sleep didn’t come at all. He lay restless for a few hours, trying every possible position but nothing working for him. Strange energy flowed through him, preventing him from sleeping. Deeming it a waste of time, Newt went out of bed again and instead settled himself at his desk. Grabbing some pencils and some paper, he started drawing. His fingers ran over the paper with practised skill and he found himself letting go of the real world and entering his own. Soft lines contrasting hard lines, shadows caused by light, smudges and clear lines, rough sketches turned into carefully detailed drawings; everything came together beautifully.

He didn’t realise he’d spent all night and morning on the drawing until his alarm shook him out of the daze he’d entered when he begun.

It was as though a strange current ran through him; something he’d never experienced before. He felt almost… content.

*******

After a week of living with his parents, they travelled back; and Newt stayed. Their relationship hadn’t improved, but Newt felt as though they understood him slightly better now.

Having seen the two boys together on several occasions, even they couldn’t deny the fact that the one seemed to brighten the other simply by being together. That didn’t stop them from being doubtful though. They’d talked to the teachers at his school to listen to their evaluation of their son. While they did mention the usual “he never participates in class”, “his relationship to his classmates is concerning”, and also spoke of his absence on his bad days, most of them had also noticed a significant change in his attitude which started about a month ago – unsurprisingly the time period in which he’d known Thomas. They said it appeared “he cares more”. That seemed to convince his parents that he actually _was_ improving, even if the steps were small, and they were satisfied enough to let him stay with Sonya for a while longer.

That weekend he spent at Thomas’, dining with Thomas’ mother and simply being in each other’s presence. Sonya didn’t mind; she knew they’d been apart ever since his parents had arrived, so she simply told him to behave and have fun. At that he’d blushed slightly, causing both Thomas and Sonya to laugh at him, before he practically pushed Thomas outside so they could go to his place.

For a little while, everything was alright.

But of course, with his luck, that couldn’t last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple of chapters will be more about Thomas' background... look forward to it!  
> (Also, I'm going to write some one-shots for a "30 days" challenge, though not everyday more distributed, and they will be Newtmas as well, so if you're interested, look out for them!)


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy! A new chapter! c:  
> ehehe, we're finally getting a bit into Thomas as well! uhh, I'm so excited for you guys' reaction for the next couple of chapters c:  
> I really hope you like it!  
> Thank you so much for reading and leaving comments and kudos!  
> Love xoxo

Monday morning Newt got up earlier than usual, not able to sleep any longer. The anticipation was too much and he couldn’t sit still for breakfast, causing Sonya to send him looks with a raised eyebrow. She didn’t say anything, though, because she knew what - or rather who – was the cause of this.

Newt hadn’t seen Thomas ever since the weekend before Christmas; they both celebrated Christmas and New Years with their families, and other than a few celebratory texts, they hadn’t been in contact. Newt and Sonya usually didn’t do anything grand on either of the occasions but this time it just felt more special. Maybe it was because of the extra gift beneath the tree. He’d gotten some art supplies from his aunt and a book that he didn’t even remember mentioning wanting from Thomas; he could be so attentive sometimes, and other times so incredibly dense.

He had wanted to meet up during the holiday, Thomas had said he’d be spending time with some family out of town and though Newt might not have the best experience regarding family time, he understood the need to surround oneself with family; even more so when it was Thomas, who cared for everyone.

Which means the holiday felt even longer than usual with Newt for the first time looking forward to school starting, if only because he missed being around Thomas.

When it was finally an appropriate time to go to school, even if it was earlier than usual, he practically skipped his way through the thin layer of snow, unable to stop the smile spreading on his face the closer he got to the school. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, but it didn’t bother him at all. Upon entering the school, he couldn’t help but let his eyes roam the halls, searching for that particular brunet, even if he knew Thomas always showed up just before the bell rang. To pass the time, he found his books and prepared for the next class, knowing he probably wouldn’t get to see Thomas before lunch. Even so, he couldn’t help but glance at the hallway, and continued to do so as class had started.

It wasn’t until lunch that he started getting worried. He looked around the canteen, spotting Teresa at their usual table, but without Thomas at her side. He knew they had most classes together, and they were usually always together before Newt arrived, unless Thomas had taken it into his own hands to pick up Newt after class.

Teresa was picking at her lunch, looking utterly devastated, and that’s when Newt realised something was horribly wrong. Teresa was one of the most optimistic people he knew aside from Thomas and for her to let her guard down was worrying to say the least. He paused, a few steps away from her, hesitant in sitting down with her in case she didn’t want to talk. His feet were already beginning to turn, his body following, when she raised her head and noticed him.

“Hi Newt,” she said, giving him a small smile that made her seem so burnt out in comparison to her usual brightness. He gave a hesitant smile, unsure of how to comfort her especially since he had no idea what was wrong. He would ask Thomas, but he wasn’t there and he hadn’t answered his texts since –

Wait. What if something had happened to him? Surely, she would’ve told him? Was that why he hadn’t been in contact for so long?

Panic suddenly ceased him and his body practically collapsed onto the bench in front of Teresa. Alarmed by the sudden movement, she jumped from her seat to support him with her hands on his shoulders.

His breathing was ragged, and there was just not enough air in the room for him to breathe properly. He took heavy breaths, trying to swallow as much air as possible, but he felt like he was drowning, nothing entering his lungs.

He didn’t realise she was repeating his name over and over until her grip on his shoulders became too painful not to notice.

Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths through his nose, forcing himself to do it slowly, and felt his heartbeat slow down bit by bit.

“Jeez, Newt, what happened?” Teresa said from behind him where she was still supporting him, as if she were afraid to let go, when his breathing had turned back to normal.

“Sorry,” he croaked, throat dry from his heaving breaths. Colour rose to his cheeks as he realised they were in the canteen with the whole school around them, but luckily none had seemed to notice. Even so, he felt like just _getting out of there_ but mostly he just wanted Thomas. It was selfish and his stomach curled guiltily, but it was usually Thomas helping him and calming him in these situations and the longing at that point was too great to stand.

He tried standing from his place, wobbling slightly as he stood, but Teresa’s hands were still on him, steadying him.

“I need to –“ he tried saying, but his voice came out with nervous hiccups and squeaks so he wasn’t sure anyone would understand him. Nevertheless, Teresa seemed to get the gist of what he was trying to do, because she abandoned her lunch and took his arm in a way that would seem friendly if anyone were to look but was served more as a way for him to lean on her.

They didn’t get further than the empty hallway, before Teresa stopped them and forced Newt to sit on the ground. She sat down beside him and looked at him expectantly.

“Thanks,” he said, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to apologise again. She merely continued to look at him, waiting for him to gather courage on his own rather than her asking.

“Is – “ he began, stopping briefly to swallow a lump in his throat and attempting to moisten his dry lips. “Is Thomas alright?”

She sighed and casted her eyes downwards, which for Newt, who had been watching her reaction closely, was not exactly promising. He was on the brink of starting another panic attack when she hurried to explain.

“No, hey, Newt, he’s not hurt! Not the way you think, anyway –“

At this Newt held his breath, forcing his nerves to calm, suddenly paying close attention to what she said next.

“He’s not _physically_ hurt, I mean,” she said less rushed now that she saw Newt wasn’t freaking out. “These last couple of days have been specifically tough for him –“

*******

Hours later, he had rushed out of class, trying not to let the cold get to him as he walked the long distance to Thomas’ house. Standing outside, he took a few deep breaths before gathering the courage to lift his hand and knock on the door.

He didn’t know what to expect. Even from what Teresa had told him, he’d never experienced Thomas so withdrawn, and he wasn’t sure if he would be welcomed or rejected. Nevertheless, he wanted to be there for him, just like Thomas was there for him whenever he needed him.

The only problem was; he didn’t know _how_. After years of being alone and never experiencing any comfort, this last year in particular had been extremely changing with Thomas showing him a whole new side to relationships that he’d never bothered going into depth in before, simply because he hadn’t known of its existence.

That was one of the reasons behind him trying to help him; he probably owed him his life. It was solely due to his radical change that his parents let him stay. If he had to go back, he would probably redo his attempt from the summer holiday; and this time, not fail.

But he also wanted to be a good friend; a good boyfriend. He cared for him, and wanted him to feel better.

Which is why, when the door opened, he couldn’t help the painful stab in his chest from seeing him. Thomas’ eyes were sunken and bloodshot, his hair tousled, his limbs long and thinner than usual. Newt inhaled sharply, his eyes watering by the miserable sight of him. Thomas should not look like this. Thomas was the sun; he was radiant, warm, open; he was a ball of energy that could never sit still or keep quiet; he brought life where all hope had been lost.

This hollow shell staring emptily into nothingness, barely recognising the person standing in front of him, this was not Thomas. It couldn’t be.

“Thom –“ Newt began when he finally found his voice, still shocked by the state of him, but he was interrupted by said person.

“What’re you doing here?” Thomas’ voice came out rough, the accusing tone causing Newt to take a step back in surprise. Thomas had never sounded this hostile towards anyone; especially not towards him. He was always so kind and gentle, careful, but not in a degrading way. Yes, he could be loud and obnoxious at times, but always in the best way, encouraging Newt to stand up for himself and believe in himself.

It was as though this was a whole other person standing in front of him. For a single second, Newt was in actual denial that this was not Thomas. But it was. It was so painfully Thomas, that Newt only got more confused and hurt.

“I –“ Newt tried, swallowing his next words as he saw the tired, rejecting look in the brunet’s face.

“Are you –“ he tried once more but only saw the irritated, impatient look that he’d seen so many times, too many times, and he was immediately thrown back into an abundance of memories.

The years of being neglected, the lifetime of feeling unneeded, unworthy, _useless_ , of actually being all those things and more, because that was all the world ever made him believe he was. The dark days of feeling absolutely numb and not caring what happened to himself because who would even bother noticing that he was gone anyway?

He heard whimpers and later realised that they were coming from him. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something – pity or guilt – but he blamed it on his inability to think straight at that moment, because the harsh look on Thomas’ face was something he’d never forget.

“Go home, Newt,” was the only warning he got before the door slammed shut in his face, and Newt staggered backwards, trying not to fall over his own feet.

He stood there, staring at the door for minutes, maybe even a whole hour if the coldness seeping in through his clothing was anything to go by, before he managed to pull himself together and force himself to go home.

It shouldn’t have gone like that.

He shouldn’t have looked like that.

But most importantly; Newt should’ve been stronger. He should’ve been better, should’ve known what to say instead of standing there like a dumbstruck idiot.

Really, this was all his fault.

His fingers twitched as he walked home, but he didn’t notice. His lips turned blue at one point, but he didn’t notice. He started limping at one point, but he didn’t notice.

Because none of it mattered.

The only thing that mattered, was Thomas; helping Thomas as he had once helped Newt.

And Newt had failed.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy I'm back! So sorry it's been so long :c  
> I've been extremely ill (and still not top-notch) but I'll do my best to write as much as possible C:  
> Anyway, I tried making a longer chapter for y'all since it's been so long!  
> I hope you enjoyyy~  
> love to all of you leaving comments and kudos <3 it seriously helps motivate me, especially when you come with your own ideas and interpretations !  
> xoxo

Tuesday morning, Newt had a hard time getting out of bed. His failure from yesterday weighed him down, his body feeling heavier than usual.

He debated whether to just say at home, but Teresa’s words resounded in his head.

_“These last couple of days have been specifically tough for him. It’s not for me to tell you, but what I will say, is that he needs you now more than ever. You aren’t the only one with ghosts haunting you in the back of the mind.”_

He wanted to stay in bed; he wanted to hide from the world and pretend none of this happened, and everything was fine, Thomas was fine, he was fine, no one had any ghosts. Of course, that wasn’t reality. All these years, he had been living hidden from the world, pretending to live even though he was barely alive; pretending he was fine, saying that he was anytime someone asked, when in reality, his world was deteriorating. However, ever since he started standing up for himself, no matter the consequences, the positive moments were always so much more valuable, making it so much better than the alternative, even if it required hurtful emotions on the way. Now Thomas needed the same reminder that he had so selflessly provided to Newt in his desperate times.

Thomas needed him.

So Newt forced himself up, out of bed, even if his body ached for the comfort of his warm, soft sheets.

He forced himself to swallow a spoonful of oatmeal, even if it felt sticky and _wrong_. He forced himself to put on his jacket and hat, even if his limbs were heavy and stiff. He purposely left the scarf behind, not even glancing at its bright blue colour.

The walk to the school couldn’t be more different than yesterday; then he’d been walking fast, looking forward going to school, a huge smile on his face. This time, he walked with his head down, dragging his feet on the pavement, his body as heavy as the thoughts troubling him.

When the school came into his sight, he almost turned around on the spot. He would have, if it hadn’t been for the pain shooting up his leg. It was an icy Tuesday morning, the cold easily seeping through his skin, and his weariness did nothing to help soothe the ache. By the time he entered the classroom and found a seat, his whole figure slumped down into the chair. He groaned as he rubbed his leg, too unfocused to notice when the bell rang. The lesson went on, but the teacher’s and students’ voices sounded muffled to Newt. Luckily, the teachers were used to him not participating in class, therefore he didn’t get called out when it was obvious he wasn’t paying attention. Mostly, he was just ignored by teachers and students alike.

Well, that was, until Thomas came along.

The thought only made him lower his head even more. He clenched his teeth when he felt the familiar prick of tears at his eyes, irritated at himself for being so _pathetic_ so _weak_ and oh so _vulnerable._ He hated this part of him more than anything, mostly because this was what his parents thought of him at all times. He didn’t want to prove them right. He didn’t want to be vulnerable. But he didn’t know how not to be. He’d been this quiet, reserved kid for so long, he didn’t know how to be any different or how to actually stand up for himself.

He was helpless.

It didn't help that Thomas, once more, didn't show up to school. But this time Newt didn't panic; he didn't immediately seek out Teresa, he didn't catch himself expecting to see Thomas around every corner. He simply didn't care.

He barely managed to show up for the right classes, and even accidentally spend a lesson in the hallway where he had been roaming endlessly, simply forgetting that he had to show up.

He didn't even register how long he'd been gone in the world of his own mind before Alby found him.

“Newt? Why aren't you in class?” the taller boy asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. If Newt had been in a better mental state, he would've probably scoffed at the student council president, whose biggest worry was that his best friend didn't attend class.

His throat was a vacuum of words, so he answered with a shrug. That must've worked as an eye opener, because suddenly Newt was pulled very abruptly into the nearest empty room, which just happened to be the art room. The blond did his best not to look at the art pieces scattered about the room, knowing it would only make him feel worse about himself to see the brilliant, and most importantly, _open_ artworks.

He should've known it was a bad idea; that he was never meant to open himself so much to a person. He was doomed to a life alone, and nothing was going to change that. Then why had it felt so easy to open himself up? It had been effortless, as though they had known each other in another life. And yet, he realised, he didn't know everything there was to know about Thomas. Something was bothering him immensely, and he didn't trust Newt enough to tell him. He didn't think him important enough, and that was what hurt the most. He had opened himself, shown every aspect there was to show of himself, because he trusted Thomas more than anyone. He thought the trust was mutual. Apparently, he was wrong.

The wetness on his cheeks suddenly made sense to him when he realised the whooshing sounds in his ear were Alby trying to calm him down. He had somehow collapsed onto the floor, and Alby had followed, his arms wrapped tightly around the frail boy, as though he could shield him from the world that way. Not even thinking twice about how this was the most physical contact they'd had in the years they'd known each other, Newt leaned into the taller boy, letting his tears fall more freely, and giving into the sobs coursing through his body.

They sat on the cold floor like that for a while, until the bell rang for the second time, and Newt realised Alby had yet to leave him. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, knowing he had to calm down, if not for himself, then for Alby who was surely torn by the fact that _he_ – the student council president who always put duty over everything – had now missed a lesson, maybe even two. Sensing that the other boy was calming down, Alby lessened his grip on Newt, careful to let him pull away by himself rather than pushing him, but making sure he was supported and wouldn’t collapse in on himself.

When he finally caught his breath, he felt the familiarity of warmth spreading in his face. His eyes lowered to the floor, embarrassed about his breakdown and that Alby had been witness to it.

“I’ll kill him.”

The harsh words caught his attention, and Newt looked up to see Alby’s fiery eyes and clenched teeth. He opened his mouth to respond, to say it wasn’t necessary, but his words betrayed him, not leaving his lips.

“He did this to you, didn’t he? Thomas.” The name was hissed through the clenched teeth as though it was poison. After a couple of dreadful moments where neither of them said anything, Newt too shocked to get the words out, Alby growing more furious by the minute.

“I knew it,” Alby eventually exclaimed, standing up abruptly and making his way towards the door. That seemed to finally pull Newt out of his frozen state, jumping up after his friend to stop him before exiting the room.

“Wait!” Newt called, catching Alby by his wrist. He turned reluctantly, anger radiating off him.

“He didn’t – it’s not –“ Newt tried, forcing the words out of his throat even if he was unsure of what to say. To say Alby looked unimpressed was an understatement.

“Please don’t,” Newt finally pleaded, trying to communicate the trust he had in Thomas, even if Thomas didn’t have trust in him. That seemed to relieve some of the anger, Alby’s eyes shifting to sympathy as he looked at the broken boy in front of him. He exhaled heavily through his nose, his hand, which had been resting on the doorknob, relaxing its grip and falling to his side.

“I don’t like this. You can’t expect me to sit by and just watch as you fall apart, Newt, because there’s no way I’m going to,” Alby’s words were stern, and if Newt didn’t know him better, he would’ve flinched from the harshness. However, he _did_ know Alby, and he could decipher the worry underneath it all. He offered a tentative smile, glad that he hadn’t demanded to know, what was upsetting him, but rather supporting him without question.

“I know, just –“ Newt paused, considering his next words. Alby looked at him expectantly, though eventually, Newt simply sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure what’s wrong.”

The older boy gave him a wary look, probably not believing him entirely. Newt couldn’t find it in himself to blame him; it _did_ sound rather strange after all. However, in the end, Alby nodded in reluctant acceptance, though stopping Newt from exiting the room with a tight grip on his shoulder.

With a clench on his shoulder, the silent warning was clear, but the understanding in his eyes conveyed the comfort Newt had needed in his moment of weakness. He gave a thankful smile, and with a clap on his shoulder, he was dismissed, as Alby had duties to fulfil and classes to catch up on.

Newt exited the art room feeling less alone. He wished he could say the same about the churning feeling in his gut, only expanding the more he thought about a particular brunet.

*******

Teresa walked about the school, glancing at everyone she passed, hoping to find the dark, – and though she hated to admit it – sad, brown eyes that she had been looking for since lunch break started. She hadn’t heard back from Newt about how it went yesterday, but considering the still withdrawn Thomas refusing to reply to any of her messages and the now missing blond, she figured it didn’t exactly go as she’d hoped. She was just about to double back and check their table in the canteen again, when a tall figure approached her. Recognising him as Newt’s friend, she stopped in her tracks, waiting for him to catch up.

“Hey, have you seen –“ she started but stopped mid-sentence when she saw the stern look on his face. Alby had always seemed like a strict and serious person, but something about the way he squared his broad shoulders, the way his eyes narrowed at the sight of her, the way his hands were clenched made her realise something was wrong. She just hoped it didn’t have anything to do with the missing blond; but who was she kidding, what else could it be?

“You,” he said, pointing a long finger at her, making her feel significantly smaller, “and I need to talk.”

Trying her best not to be too intimidated but instead putting on a brave front she followed the taller boy to a corner in the hallway.

“I don’t know what your _friend_ has been up to,” he started, blunt and upfront as she had only expected him to be, “but whatever it is, if he doesn’t make things right, I swear I’ll put an end to this; I don’t think either of us wants to let it go that far.”

The immediate blame and the certainty that Thomas was in the wrongdoing, made Teresa’s blood boil. At any other time, she would have ignored the underlying blame, the accusing tone, the doubt of whether Thomas was worthy of anything less than the best; but right now, knowing Thomas was already blaming himself far too much and that the two people for whom they were currently fighting _needed_ each other. She’d witnessed their undeniable love that they might not be ready to admit yet but was present in every glance, every brief touch, every twitch of lips. Thomas didn’t deserve to be bashed like this; he was her best friend and while she had no problem with standing up to him when he was being an idiot, she would also defend him when she had to.

“You jump to Newt’s immediate defence and yet you expect me to just stand by while you threaten my best friend. You said it yourself; you don’t know what Thomas and Newt have been up to, so I don’t believe you have the right to accuse anyone. While I understand your concern – believe me, I feel the same if not doubled – you have to trust in Newt to do this on his own or ask you when he sees it fit. But know this;” she said, taking a step closer so they were almost toe to toe, “don’t be so quick to judge, when you have no idea what’s going on.”

With that, she left the flabbergasted student council president, feeling satisfied with herself.

However, the self-righteousness didn’t last long; Alby’s words hadn’t been completely inexcusable.

She had to talk to Thomas; even if he didn’t want to talk to her.

*******

Teresa stood outside the house she’d been inside so many times it was almost like a second home to her. Usually, she would just saunter inside with no thought of alerting the residents. This time, however, she knocked lightly, opening the door carefully to peek inside. No one seemed to have heard her entrance, and she wasn’t surprised when she heard the loud music booming from upstairs. She hadn’t seen the car outside, so Thomas’ mother was probably at work. Without thinking twice, she made her way upstairs to Thomas’ room, taking a deep breath before entering like she usually would, abrupt and loud. Thomas didn’t stir from his position on the bed, even when she yelled his name to be heard over the music.

However, it was first when she turned off the music that she was acknowledged.

“Teresa,” Thomas groaned, rolling onto his stomach to hide his face in his pillow.

“We need to talk,” Teresa said, ignoring the pitiful look Thomas send her. She knew he had every reason to be upset, but what was _not_ okay, was him ignoring the people who cared about him, and she had to make him realise that.

Thomas merely groaned once more in response, still turned away from her, so she sighed and sat down next to him on the bed.

“Thomas, I know you don’t want to but I really think you should tell him. He’ll understand if you need to be alone, just, don’t leave him in the dark like this. He’s miserable, you know? He’s blaming himself and for every day, every minute, you don’t talk to him, he’s regressing to the insecure little boy he was before. You haven’t seen him, Thomas. I know this is hard for you, and I wish I could do this for you, but ultimately you and Newt are the only ones capable of saving what’s left of your relationship. Newt wants to try, he wants to take risks and go out of his comfort zones, he already _has_ , but if he thinks that you’d rather be off without him, then he won’t do it; he values your needs above everything else, so _please_ just do _something_. It doesn’t have to be anything big, you don’t even have to leave your house, just text him, say you need time or whatever it is you need, just _talk to him!_ ”

The frustration of seeing his best friend in agony and not being able to do anything about it had caught up to her; all the repressed feelings of guilt from every time she saw Newt’s miserable face, the anger of Thomas being accused by Alby, the frustration when she couldn’t defend him properly, because _it was with good reason._ She needed to vent, and her best friend wasn’t himself, which just made it all so much more difficult.

“I can’t Teresa.”

The mumbled words somehow made their way to her ears, but at least now he sat up next to her, though still not facing her properly.

“I _know_ , you think you have to do this by yourself, but –“

“No, Teresa, _I can’t._ ”

The pure agony and desperation in his words made her stop and look at him – _really_ look at him. He wasn’t just tired, he looked _exhausted_. Worse than she’d ever seen him. It wasn’t just the weight of the anniversary of his father’s death slumping his shoulders; she had seen that before, and this wasn’t it. It was something else. Uncertainty struck, her mouth opening in surprise, worry suddenly overtaking her.

“Thomas what –“ she started but couldn’t form a final question. Luckily, they had been together ever since she could remember, and all their experiences with each other, their knowledge about each other, led to that Thomas already understood her question, probably anticipated it even before she had thought of it.

“Because he was right,” he said, lowering his head and avoiding her gaze. She wanted to ask _who was right_ and _what were they right about_ but instead, she waited patiently, knowing he just needed to gather his courage before admitting, whatever it was, to her.

“Newt was right,” he revealed, making Teresa stand slightly taller, intrigued.

He sighed gently, clenching his jaw in a way that looked painful, but he didn’t even flinch. The worry that had slowly crept its way into Teresa’s heart suddenly surfaced, coating her whole body like a layer of new skin, causing a terrifying, tingling sensation.

“When we first started dating, I –“ he paused, swallowing his words, contemplating them before he let them out, which in itself worried Teresa. When he spoke again, his voice was nothing but a whisper, though his words were deafening. 

“I used him.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone out there? *crickets*  
> I know it’s been a while and I’m truly sorry that I haven’t been able to update before now (I won’t even mention my excuses, I’m sure you know them all; school, exams, health, illness and whatnot). I hope I didn’t lose too many of you! To those of you I didn’t: Thank you for putting up with a good-for-nothing writer like me c:  
> stayed up all night to finish this because I'm finally able to write and I wanted to give you something after all this time! I hope it makes sense; I am a bit rusty after all.  
> It really warms my heart to see comments appearing after all this time!  
> I do not deserve you wonderful beings  
> xoxo

Teresa sat in Thomas’ room, feeling the weight beside her shift on the bed where she was currently placed. She looked to her right where her best friend sat with his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees, despair radiating from him. In any other situation, she would have put her arm around him, tried to comfort him but in this particular one she knew, he wouldn’t let her. If the air inside the room hadn’t been so thick she could barely breathe, she would’ve huffed at his stubbornness and given him a slap on the head to get him out of his self-deprecating state.

“You have to tell him,” she said, breaking the silence and ignoring the way he flinched visibly. He knew it; he’d admitted as much during the hour they’d talked, though for the larger half of that they’d been sitting in uncomfortable silence (Teresa didn’t remember when silence had last been uncomfortable around her best friend).

In response, Thomas merely nodded his head.

“I know, I just – I can’t, Teresa. He’ll hate me. All the progress we’ve made; he’s finally opened up to not just me but other people and I can’t ruin that.”

He had intended on wallowing in self-pity, starving himself from the source that gave him life, all the while slowly killing that very source with his absence. At best, Newt would realise that Thomas wasn’t worth it and go on living like he just started to; at worst, Newt would go back to his old ways until someone – because there would be someone; Newt was too precious, too lively though hidden beneath the layers of self-doubt to stay alone – would help him realise, he deserves so much more. What he hadn’t expected, though he really should have, was for Teresa to hit him on the back of his head. Rubbing at the sore spot, he turned to glare at her.

“You cannot be fucking serious!” Teresa sneered, clenching her fists, barely keeping herself from hitting him out of frustration. She knew Thomas better than anyone – probably better than she knew herself – and she understood his reason; that didn’t make it a good reason. She had seen Newt every day; seen how he slowly began to hunch in on himself, crumbling to pieces like the broken boy he’d been when they first met; how his voice lowered to a mumble even if it were just the two of them speaking so quietly she’d have to lean close to hear him. Not too close though, because he would flinch away by the proximity.

“I know this is difficult for you, especially at this time, but that doesn’t mean you can just ignore everything that’s happened until now. You can’t just throw away the people that depend on you; the people that _you_ depend on, whether you admit it or not.”

Teresa had noticed the change in Thomas when the two started to go out, mainly because he was her best friend and she didn’t know Newt well enough to see if he changed (however, she would quickly see the change in him as well). Though, she also kept an eye on him, since he hadn’t been the type to fall helplessly in love with someone; rather, he’d go out with someone he liked, trying to conjure romantic emotions for said person but would in the end realise he couldn’t feel anything more than that of a friend. He was completely involved, so engrossed that he spaced out in her presence (which wasn’t really that abnormal, it was just the reason which puzzled her). It was strange. New, but in a good way. It was a nice change to the sombre, surrendering Thomas who had dominated ever since his father’s death.

Now though? Now, it was like before, when all had lost its meaning and he couldn’t depend on anyone; not even her, and she understood because, admittedly, she _didn’t_ understand and she didn’t know how to help him. But it was different. He had slowly changed into the Thomas she had known before, the confident, impulsive, granted a little reckless Thomas that was so easy to depend on, that she’d almost forgotten how broken he’d been before. It was a mistake on her part to believe that it was over. How could it ever be? His father had been and still was a huge part of him but in her eager for him to become better, she had accepted the change without thinking that he still needed, _craved_ support to get through the traumatic experience.

She almost didn’t show today; mostly because the guilty part of her said that mourning was natural, healthy even. Then the more reasonable part of her had kicked in. Pushing the ones closest away wasn’t healthy nor did it exclude mourning. They were supposed to be in this together; to help each other, support each other, comfort each other.

This way didn’t help anyone: it only made matters worse and frankly, Teresa was tired of seeing the two miserable idiots not realising that they needed each other to get through this. At the very least, Newt deserved to know the whole reason behind Thomas’ withdrawal.

“If you don’t tell him, _today_ , I will.”

Despite the knowledge that Newt might hate him, that this could very likely be the destruction of their very timid relationship already built on an unstable foundation, the thought of Newt hearing it from anyone else but him would only make him look that much more deceiving in his eyes and any attempt of saving what would be left of them would fail completely. So instead of protesting and hiding beneath his duvet like he had done these past days, he cleared his throat, squeezed her hand, and nodded slightly.

The only thing there was left to do, was to come clean and hope Newt would hear him out before throwing him out of his life.

*******

The weariness in his legs caused by his sudden lack of moving for the past days was nothing compared to the nervousness he felt when the door finally opened after the second knock. His legs were trembling when Sonya appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were hard as they took in his appearance, cold and unbetraying of what she felt of his arrival other than the stern protectiveness locking her body. When she finally let him in, he let out a silent sigh of relief to himself.

Just the fact that she had let him in was a sign that his hope wasn’t completely unsupported. Right?

She watched him warily as he made his way to Newt’s door. Her stare made the hair on the back of his neck prickle his skin, uneasiness filling his being. He glanced back at her, his hand hesitating on the door knob. She held her hard stare for a few seconds before turning around and leaving him to his inner battle.

Thomas closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and entered.

At first, it was too dark for him to see anything. The blinds were covering the single window in the room and the lights were off. Only the light from living room coming from the small crack through which he had slipped inside illuminated a small part of the room but was quickly darkened when he closed the door behind him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, in the meantime not hearing any rustling indicating where the blond was. He wondered for a moment whether he wasn’t here but it wouldn’t make sense for Sonya to let him in otherwise. When his eyes adjusted, he noticed the faint silhouette of a body sitting on the bed. Knowing he’d been noticed, he didn’t bother bringing attention to himself.

He slowly sat on the edge of the bed, noticing the subtle flinch that would’ve been unnoticeable if he hadn’t been looking closely.

Hesitantly, he reached a hand out to Newt, who was hiding his head in his knees. He could feel the phantom softness of his hair before he even touched it, his hands knowing the sensation all too well, and he could feel the rest of his body aching to _touch_ , his heart aching along with it. Just as he brushed the blond locks, Newt’s head shot up from its position, widening as his eyes registered the person next to him.

He’d heard him arrive, yes, but he’d expected his supportive aunt, not the cause of his frustration. Thomas nearly drew back at the surprise in the other’s eyes, wincing as he realised he was the cause of the dark circles beneath the gorgeous eyes, but he didn’t have time to draw back fully before the blond threw himself in his arms.

Thomas sat, too perplexed to move, the action having caught him completely off guard. His arms acted on their own, encircling the blond, grasping him, first then realising just how much he’d missed him. He took the moment, exploited it, buried his face in the blond’s neck, inhaled deeply and tried to imprint the sensation into his very being, knowing this might very well be his last chance once he started talking.

Too soon, the blond drew back, moving his hands to cup Thomas’ face, letting his eyes roam his features as though starved of its presence. Thomas couldn’t blame him. He felt exactly the same. He rested his hands on Newt’s hips as he shifted to sit on his lap, resting their foreheads together.

“Newt,” he whispered, the desperate need for him, the timid moment betraying his mouth for what he knew needed to be said. In response, Newt lifted his head slightly, fitting their mouths together perfectly in a soft, tender kiss that made Thomas’ heart ache.

“Wait,” he forced himself to say, though not finding the strength to pull away entirely. His eyes were still closed, dragging the moment out as long as he could.

“Hush,” Newt said, his breath meeting Thomas’ pulp lips, that made him whine in the back of his throat. “You don’t have to explain to me. I’m just glad you’re here – with me. _Please_ –“ Newt continued, his thumbs stroking Thomas’ cheeks so tenderly he almost melted right on that spot, his voice breaking, pleading. “Please don’t shut me out again.”

Thomas hated himself for the vulnerability evident in Newt’s voice, knowing he’d put it back there. His hand grasped the blond’s neck, trying to convince himself to admit, to not take the easy way out that had been offered to him.

“No, Newt,” he forced out, ignoring the selfish part of him screaming at him to stop doing this and just live in eternal ignorance. He grabbed the blond’s wrists, softly but sternly removing his hands from his cheeks, and opened his eyes to face him completely. “I need to explain. You deserve that much.” He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself, to calm the turmoil of emotions twirling and twisting inside him.

He took a breath, and started talking.

***

_One year ago_

It was a normal Wednesday. He’d just finished studying for mocks with Teresa and was completely ready to simply slump in his bed and wait for his mother to come home so they could eat dinner. She was quite busy these days, taking extra shifts at work, hoping to achieve the raise that they didn’t really need but that she deserved.

He walked into the house, fully expecting his father already in the kitchen. Ever since his forced retirement (as he put it himself, his eyes cast downward shamefully, even though they all knew the accident was exactly that; an accident) he’d spent his time at home fixing what wasn’t broken, keeping himself busy. One thing that remained the same, however, was his love for food and his excellency in the area. Thomas’ mother couldn’t cook to save her life, had lived off instant meals before she had met her husband. The scent of his father’s home-cooked food would fill the house with colourful flavours that made one’s mouth drool by the mere thought of getting a taste.

Perhaps it was that exact intense smell, or the absence of it, which made Thomas realise something was wrong the minute he stepped inside.

His first glance into the kitchen showed the reason behind the absence of said scent; there was no pot on the stove, no soft music playing in the background, no tall dark man whistling along and stirring in something with an incredible aroma.

Then he turned his head towards the living room and suddenly he found himself trying not to retch. He took a step closer but fell when his legs gave in beneath him. Vile build up in his throat, tears stinging behind his eyes but not quite making it out into the open. His hands shot out, catching his body as it slumped forward, towards the body – the _corpse_ of his father. His breath hitches and his mind goes back to that one time when Teresa was picked on by a group of boys and he came to her defence. Back then he’d received a quite powerful blow to the stomach and he’d lost his breath to the point that tears fell down his cheeks. The boys had pointed at him, laughed, and called him a wuss, to which Teresa had kicked the boy in the nuts and told them to go to hell before helping Thomas to the nurse. It was like that but worse. He gulped the air in, trying to become in control of his body again, but it protested when it laid eyes on the paleness of his father’s skin, the dullness of his wide open eyes, the faint smell of death that Thomas had first encountered when his grandmother died when he was 8. He dry-heaved until his stomach hurt from the tension and even then couldn’t stop, folding inwards and cradling his stomach in an attempt to make it stop, just _make it all stop._

He didn’t know how long he’d sat there on the floor with his father’s body suspended by a rope attached to his neck in front of him. At some point he heard the sound of their car coming to a halt outside the house and he barely registered the thought of his mother and how she shouldn’t see this, she should stay outside, she didn’t have to see this and feel what he felt. He couldn’t find it in himself to move, though, so when his mother entered the house, innocently turning towards the sound of his panting, all he could do was close his eyes and try to block the sound of her piercing scream followed by heart-wrenching sobs.

His mother was a reserved woman; she didn’t like to cry in front of others. But that night the whole neighbourhood heard as she wept.

*******

_Present day_

Newt sat next to him, close, but no longer touching him. Thomas felt his skin tingle where they had been touching, but that had quickly changed as he got more into the story. Newt was right next to him, and yet he seemed impossible to reach. They sat quietly, Thomas not wanting to break the delicate silence that had erupted so suddenly, though he could tell, even in the darkness, that Newt had fallen back into the black pit of self-deprecation and distrust.

It was pure torture to sit there and watch as everything he’d fought for, the confidence he had helped shape, build, and secure crumble before his eyes together with the trust they’d established. To see the person, he cared for so incredibly deeply wither away before his eyes, knowing it was his fault and that there was nothing he could do to help was immensely painful. It seemed it was becoming an annual thing to watch the things he loved the most die. He nearly laughed at the obscenity of it all.

In the end, Thomas was the one to cave (as was only to be expected; he was the less patient one of the two).

“Newt,” he tried carefully, reaching for the other’s hand.

“Don’t.” The simple word was quiet but resonated in Thomas’ head for hours after he left. It was too close to being a sob for Thomas’ liking. He didn’t even turn to look at him as he spoke.

“I was right all along. When I saw that you’d read –“ he paused, his breath hitching, and Thomas remembered, remembered that day he’d revealed the diary, remembered the anxiety, the doubt Newt had already gone through once, that _they_ had already gone through and here he was, forcing them to go through it all again.

“Right from the beginning you –“ he paused again, closing his eyes, and Thomas felt his throat constrict at the sight of a tear sliding down his cheek. “You _used_ me. You only ever started talking to me because I’m – because I –“ another sob left his mouth, wrenching its way to Thomas’ aching heart. He took a steadying breath, glaring in front of him but still refusing to meet Thomas’ eyes.

“You only sought me out because you wanted to understand, right? Because you didn’t understand why he did it, why he _took his own life_ , and because you know I tried, that I went through the same, you thought you’d understand. Isn’t that right? Or am I wrong?” Newt demanded, his voice quiet but strong.

“Newt,” he tried again, this time not quite managing it to disguise it as anything else but a plea, because what else could he do? A plea for forgiveness. A plea for another chance. A plea for him to just _look at him_ one last time before removing him from his life. A plea for anything he was willing to give him.

“Please,” Newt said, this time a full-out, unmistakable sob, “just go. Leave me alone.”

So Thomas did.

It was what Newt wanted; and Thomas would give everything to Newt. It was the very least he could do, the very least he could give.

Not because he felt guilty (though he did, he absolutely did), not because he owed him anything.

But because he loved him.

And when you love someone, you do whatever it takes to make them happy. Even if it’s not with you.


	29. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently got a new comment on this story, so I pulled myself together and managed to /finally/ finish the last chapter.  
> So sorry for the wait! Life has been hella hectic.  
> I hope you'll forgive me!  
> Enjoy~

Thomas was one of those kids that everybody could get along with; he was open (or at least seemed to be), honest (most of the time), and had an instinctual tendency to stand up for what he believed to be right and go against what he believed to be wrong. The teachers loved and hated having him as a student, his carefreeness and ability to argue for his opinion both a blessing and a curse. Other students saw him as that clever guy who always had an answer to everything and who wasn't afraid to stand alone even when everyone else was against him.

At first, Alby had been skeptic about the relatively popular 11th grader’s approach to Newt but he had shrugged it off as the younger simply being his own talkative self. However, as their relationship progressed into something more and Alby noticed the change in Newt, he couldn't help but feel slightly grateful for the brunet’s appearance. Where Newt had been plain and distrusting, small moments of laughter and honesty shone through. Gradually, the tension in his posture faded, his smiles grew wider, his eyes filled with the joy of life, something he had felt the absence of for far too long.

Granted, there had been moments where Newt looked crushed, utterly despaired, the loneliness sinking into the deep bags under his eyes and Alby had wanted to punch the person who made him feel like that. But even then, Newt had defended him with such sincerity that he hadn't done anything else than deliver a few words. It had all turned out fine in the end, so Alby had let it go, admitting to himself that in the long run, Thomas did more good than bad, and if Newt felt able to defend him so, then surely there must be something about it (not to mention the fact that Newt usually didn't jump to anyone's defence, so him doing so was a rare sight that also showed his growth as a person).

However, all these rational thoughts disappeared entirely when he met his best friend in school one day, the weariness evident in his eyes, his face, his whole body slumping with defeat. His eyes were hazy, as though he wasn't aware of the world around him, too absorbed in his own head and whatever thoughts were passing through. His brow was furrowed, giving him an angry look that Alby hadn't seen before. Usually, when Newt was angry, it was with himself, and even then he looked more annoyed and embarrassed than angry. Truth be told, Alby didn't think the lanky blond had the energy to be angry. Seeing him like that would then mean that something had gone terribly wrong.

The blond passed by him, not even looking at him, too caught up in his own head to even notice. Alby turned as he did, following the blond with his eyes. Further down the hall a familiar brunet walked with his head down, the usual raven-haired girl beside him, supporting his side. When she noticed Newt, she nudged Thomas in the side, causing him to look up. Even without knowing the guy, Alby could tell he hadn't gotten any sleep. When spotting Newt as well, he stopped in the hallway, unable to take his eyes off him as the distance between them decreased. Newt kept on going. He passed the two of them without any acknowledgement; Alby nearly confronted the two right then and there.

Then again, maybe it was simply a minor setback before the two would jump back on track and be disgustingly cute together.

Either way, Alby needed to talk to his best friend before the poor boy walked into something and hurt himself further.

*******

Newt wasn’t angry. After all, he’d seen this coming all along. The happiness, the utter joy, the feeling that everything could be alright had all led up to this moment. He only felt disappointed. Disappointed in himself for believing that everything could be different; that he didn’t have to suffer anymore.

Most of all, though, he just felt empty. Even though he’d been alone for so long, he’d gotten so used to it that he’d forgotten how it felt to be content; how it felt to not be on his own. Now, it all came crashing down like a tidal wave, dragging him to seas and slowly drowning him until he was nothing but a corpse.

A walking corpse among other fish, too invested in their direction to notice his lifeless body.

He was back to 6 months ago when the pain had been all-consuming, clouding his mind and his senses to the state where, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t register the days that went by. Even his leg was under the impression that all those months had vanished, all the training he’d gone through for nothing, throbbing painfully for every step he took.

In the classroom, he sat staring emptily into nothing, time standing still for him but moving for everyone around him; it was like he was stuck in a timeless loop, in a moment before any thoughts had the chance to form, the moment before his mind could register the impressions his senses got. He was stumbling blind through the corridors, bumping into shadows of a memory just out of reach. His ears were deaf to the joyous sounds of juvenile chatter around him, only the rush of silence able to pierce the bubble consuming him. His tongue was dry, turning into knots whenever he attempted to form a sentence or even a word. If he had bothered to pick up his pen and doodle in his book, like he would usually do whenever he fell into the well of self-pitying, he’d notice the stiffness of his limbs, the inability to wrap his fingers around the familiar form of his pen.

Days merged together, lessons nothing but background noise, people nothing but inanimate objects passing by, the sensation similar to looking out the window of a moving car.

The moments were measured by actions, remembered by difference, though only if significantly out of the ordinary which was a rare cause when going by normally, even more so when nothing mattered. His body ran automatically, doing whatever was expected of him as a human being with basics needs but nothing more than that; nowhere near the vibrant, evolved young man that he’d been the last 3 months.

He wasn’t sure if it was days or ours or even weeks after he’d been told, after he’d been degraded to that of a soulless being, when he was approached. First, he thought the person merely hadn’t seen him; that happened often, so he moved out of the way. However, the person mirrored his movements, blocking his path, causing him to stop in the middle of the hallway.

There was something familiar about the way her dark hair fell down her shoulders, her piercing blue eyes, soft around the edges. She reminded him of a person he had once known in a previous life.

He tried to figure out why she wouldn’t budge; did he stand in front of someone whom she was trying to talk to? Perhaps she’d dropped something and he stood in the way. A quick look around indicated nothing of the sort but he could be wrong, of course. Once again, he tried to sidestep to let her through but this time she stopped him by putting her hand on his arm. He flinched from the sudden contact but she didn’t let go; only then did he notice that her lips were moving. He squinted, tried to focus on the sounds, the movements of her mouth. Faintly, he registered her voice, and he tried to single it out in the loud silence dominating his mind, until her voice sounded clearly.

“ – was wrong, but I can’t stand seeing you like this; neither of you! There has to be some way of solving this. Thomas –“

And just like that his peaceful, oblivious state shattered violently, glass shards piercing his skin wherever they could. His head burst through the surface, his lungs burning, his mouth eagerly gasping for air but finding nothing. Electricity spread through his body, making his nerves itchy beneath his skin, and he felt like pealing it off layer by layer until he was nothing but a pile of bones. Just the sound of the name made him feel naked, vulnerable in countless ways.

It must have showed somehow on his face because Teresa suddenly paled and grabbed his other arm. The room was spinning and he realised she was probably the only thing keeping him up.

What made him snap out of it was her eyes; her kind, concerned, understanding eyes.

He recognised the pity all too well; and he realised, that this had happened far too often in his short life. He didn’t want people to feel sorry for him – to see him as vulnerable, small and unstable. Sonya, Alby, Thomas, Teresa. All of them saw his insecurities as him – as foundation for his persona.

**He was not his illness. Not anymore.**

Trusting in himself for once in years, he yanked his arms out of Teresa’s grip, ignoring the dizziness from the sudden movement. The utterly surprised expression on her face only strengthened his resolve; he turned around on the spot, walking away from her with a lightness to his step that he’d never experienced before. He didn’t turn to look back at her but he imagined her bewilderment at his action; the sudden change of character, that wasn’t really a change at all; it was who he was, who he _is_ , behind the thick layer of insecurity, the uncertainty, the darkness that had clouded his very being for far too long.

His feet wanted to carry him to his safe haven but instead he forced them to turn up a flight of stairs, jumping over steps as he went up.

When he reached the top, he pushed through the door that was supposed to be locked but never was, and walked out into the cold winter air. He took a few seconds to close his eyes and just take in the fresh air, breathing freely like never before.

He drank the air in, feeling it break through the haze that had surrounded him for so long; the fog cleared and with that his eyesight as well. The school below him suddenly looked so small, so insignificant; no longer a dark slaughter house, but just a building of concrete filled with people who went about their everyday life, and who would continue to do so whether he was there or not. He closed his eyes. Calm.

*******

He sprinted through the hallway, his heart beating furiously, his breath hitching. If Minho were there he’d probably be proud of how fast he was going but beating his record was the last thing on his mind.

The only thing he cared about was to go faster, _faster_ , **_faster_**. He _had_ to make it. Anything else was not an option.

***

The leaves did not flutter in the wind. Not even the stalks of the weakest flowers bend. Everything was still. For a moment, everything was quiet. Everything was clear.

***

His sneakers screeched as he made a sharp turn but he quickly got control over his momentum and continued to push forward through the mass of students who were mindlessly roaming the hallway. He saw their faces but didn’t recognise them; to him, they were but obstacles hindering him on his way.

***

The soft whisper of a butterfly’s wings was a clear sound in his ears. The delicate movement seemed violent in the suspicious silence which dominated. No crows were crying. No dogs were barking. Simply peace in the purest form.

***

He took three steps at a time, feeling the burn in his thighs as he forced them to push forward. His foot hit a step slightly twisted and he felt time stand still around him. Instinctually, his arms shot to the sides, grabbing the rail. The cold metal dug into his skin, burning as he slid further down. Not giving up, he grabbed harshly and forced his body forward, using the force to push himself forward, up instead of down. Finally reaching the end, he discovered the door to the rooftop, which was usually locked for security reasons, was ajar, and he cursed loudly.

***

A sound disturbed the peace. It was most irritating. Finally, he had found the ability to rejoice and now this? Was he not permitted even a single moment such as this after all his suffering?

Enough was enough.

He was tired of this.

Tired of not being allowed peace.

***

When Thomas saw Newt stand by the edge of the rooftop, his first instinct was to yell out. However, unable to croak any sound from his paralysed throat, he forced the ice in his veins to thaw and his frozen limbs to move. Painfully slow, he made his way towards the blond standing just by the edge, looking down, his long locks covering his eyes, distancing himself from the world.

He jumped forward. Grabbed his arm. Pulled him backwards.

The blond fell back from the sudden force, twisting around in the grip by instinct and ended up falling face first onto Thomas’ chest. Thomas was pushed a step back from the weight of the blond, but he kept his stance and his grip was firm.

When Newt looked up at him, Thomas was slightly confused to see him surprisingly calm. Perhaps it was the thought of final peace that caused it. The thought made Thomas clench his teeth and tighten his grip.

“Thomas!” Newt exclaimed, flinching from his grip, “Let go! It hurts!”

It broke his heart to see Newt like this – wide eyes, afraid and slightly pained – but though he never wanted to hurt Newt, he’d sacrifice that to keep him alive.

“Newt,” he gasped, still out of breath from climbing the stairs in record speed. “Don’t, please. I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s not worth this. Nothing is.”

The blond ceased his struggling and his frightened gaze turned quizzical.

“Do what?” he asked, his brows furrowing and his head tilting a little, the way Thomas adored. However, Thomas wasn’t fooled by the obliviousness.

“Don’t you dare jump! I know I hurt you deeply, and I know I should’ve never done that to you, but I really do care about you, it wasn’t fake, any of it, I promise! I really, really do-“

“Wait. You thought I was going to kill myself?”

Newt’s interruption stopped Thomas in his ranting, making him stop and stare at him for ten seconds until his brain caught up and registered his words.

“You-“ he started hesitantly, looking at Newt cautiously who was just standing and waiting patiently for a response. Slowly, he let go of the blond and took a step back to not be pressed firmly together but allow some private space between them.

“You… weren’t?”

Thomas’s words were quiet, a stark contrast to the frantic shouting that had occurred only seconds before. Newt shook his head slightly, a slight smile teasing his lips.

“Why would I do that? Geez, you idiot, I tried that already, didn’t I, and how did that end for me?”

The reminder made the corners of his lips falter a tiny almost unrecognisable bit but Thomas noticed, and he suddenly felt very stupid for bringing it up.

“I… I don’t know, I guess I thought…” Thomas tried again but got lost in his own mind, trying to come up with why exactly he expected that.

“That I’m still the weak kid who can’t deal with life?”

Newt’s tone had changed drastically from the light almost familiarly teasing tone to a much darker, serious, and blaming one that Thomas was sad to recognise.

“I –“, Thomas tried but once again found himself at a loss for words. Finding none, he instead duck his head, ashamed of himself and how he once again had messed up. He heard a deep sigh from the blond in front of him and closed his eyes, too embarrassed to look up.

“Look,” Newt began, in a much calmer and Newt-like voice that surprised Thomas and made him forget himself for a minute and glance up. “I’m having a hard time realising this myself, okay, so I guess it’s not that unusual for you not to understand.” This caught Thomas’ attention and he now regained his posture and looked straight at Newt, intrigued at what he had to say.

“I’m not who I used to be. I’m not that person anymore, and it might sound weird, but it’s a bit like I was reborn, you know? Like I got a new chance at life and just… sort of reset everything.”

Newt met Thomas’ gaze, and Thomas noticed a new shine in his eyes; a sort of courage that wasn’t there before.

“I don’t want to live like that anymore. I don’t want to be dictated by my illness or my parents or anyone for that matter – which includes you.”

At this, Thomas flinched, his gaze once again seeking the comfort of the plain floor. However, this time a warm, familiar touch on his shoulder made him look up again.

“And… I was hoping… that we could both try to… start over?”

The hope in Newt’s expression and the vulnerability that he allowed to be shown was enough for Thomas to, not only realise that he’d been forgiven, but to forgive himself for what he had done.

Smiling widely, he took another step back and reached out his hand, ignoring the confused look on Newt’s face.

“Hi, I’m Thomas. I can be quite the idiot, but I am usually a very sincere guy.”

Realisation was evident in Newt’s expression and he mimicked the gesture and took hold of Thomas’ hand. The warmth spread from both their hands towards their hearts.

“Hi, I’m Newt. Nice to meet you.”

And so there they stood, widely smiling at each other, a knowing look in both of their faces.

It would seem, that a fresh start was exactly what they needed.

 

 

The end.


End file.
